


Rise

by OniGil



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, POV Original Character, Revolution, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 64,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OniGil/pseuds/OniGil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over, the Autobots victorious. But a young Autobot Seeker will soon discover that there is more to the Decepticon slaves, and to himself, than meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nova

**Author's Note:**

> This story was previously posted on fanfiction.net. I will be uploading it here over the next several days, making some minor edits as I go.
> 
> UNITS OF TIME:  
> Klik: second  
> Cycle: minute  
> Breem: five minutes  
> Megacycle: two-hour unit  
> Orn: day  
> Orbit: week  
> Decacycle: month (ten in a vorn)  
> Vorn: year (roughly 1.2 human years).  
> Decavorns (decades), centivorns (centuries), and astrocycles (millennia).

My earliest recorded memory is the sky. I was a tiny protoform then, my armor soft and malleable. In the memory I lay on my back, feeling Cybertron’s hum beneath me, but my thoughts weren’t tied to the surface. It was a clear day and above me everything was the purest blue, uninterrupted by skyscrapers or clouds. I remember stretching what would eventually become my wings and spreading my arms to embrace that endless blue, and I wanted nothing more than to escape Cybertron’s gravity and fly away.

Something else occurred to me then: a feeling that I was meant for great things. And though that feeling was buried under vorns of mockery, I never quite forgot it.

 

My second memory is Prime. “Freedom is the right of all sentient beings,” he told me, and that lesson stayed with me too.

 

* * *

 

 

Once, I liked my wings. I was proud of them. They made me unique. The other sparklings all gravitated towards me, all wanting to be me.

But all protoforms grow up, and as the vorns passed we learned what my wings were. Their creators told them what my anomalies _meant_ and their admiration turned to disgust.

The first thing I did was have the Autobot sigil painted onto my now-hated wings. It made no difference to them—they saw only the wings, not the insignias they bore—but to me, it was proof that I was an _Autobot_. I was a citizen of Iacon and the Prime’s ward. I was no slave.

Next I begged Optimus for permission to reformat my frame, and to exchange my scarlet optics for blue ones. But Optimus Prime wouldn’t allow it. “You were Sparked that way,” he said, and that was that.

_“You were Sparked that way.”_ I hated that phrase. I was Sparked a freak. I was Sparked with the frame of a Decepticon. I was Sparked looking like a slave.

My hatred for the Decepticons ran deep in my Spark—somehow, it was their fault that I looked this way—but I restrained my hostility around Optimus. I had lived with the Prime for as long as I could remember. He never mentioned my creators, but said that he had promised to raise me well.

There was no mech I held in higher regard than Optimus Prime. Though he had many duties, he was never too busy to spend time with me. Despite his strange ideas about Decepticons, I loved him as my own creator.

That wasn’t to say that I couldn’t be annoyed with him if he were being insufferable, as he was now. He had called me to his study and watched me with that considering look that made my Spark sink. Whatever he was going to say, I wouldn’t like it.

Sure enough, he said the words I had been trying to pretend would never come.

“It is time you learned to fly.”

“What?!”

“Those wings aren’t just decoration,” he pointed out.

“No Autobot _flies_.”

“That isn’t true.”

“I don’t _want_ to fly. _Decepticons_ flew. I already have enough trouble with this frame.”

Optimus said my least favorite words: “You were Sparked that way. I’ve already arranged for you to be taught.”

I scowled. “By who?” Optimus hesitated. I shot to my landing struts. “I’m not taking instructions from a slave!”

“You’re going to learn,” Prime said patiently, “so you may as well learn from the best. The Aerialbots live far from Iacon, and a Seeker is different from other fliers. Your teacher is the most talented flier I’ve ever seen.”

“But I _can’t_ take orders from a Decepticon!”

“You can,” Optimus said, stern now, “and you will. You will be respectful.”

“But I—!”

“He is your teacher, like any of your instructors at the Academy. You may not order your way out of lessons. Now, follow me.”

I dragged my pedes and scowled sulkily at everyone we passed as we descended to the slaves’ quarters, walking through dim halls inhabited by wretched mechs with faded purple sigils. Sullen red optics tracked us from the shadows. The closest mechs bowed to Optimus, but the others didn’t bother.

At first it might seem strange that Optimus, who everyone knew hated slavery, kept so many Decepticons around. In truth, they weren’t exactly his. They were government property. Maybe at one point that would have meant the _Prime’s_ property, but lately—since shortly before I was Sparked—Optimus had been pushing for a different form of government. He had given up much of his power to the new Senate. Of course, he was still Cybertron’s military leader, and the Senate asked him for help so much that he might as well be an absolute ruler again.

Optimus paused at a door and knocked. I shook my head—why knock when he could simply enter a code? He didn’t have to waste good manners on a slave.

The mech who answered had wings like mine. His color scheme had once been vivid red and white, but the paint had faded over vorns of neglect. He was all aerodynamic curves and smooth plating, and his wings were sleek. He was much smaller than Prime. His mouthplates were set just short of a sneer in a thin, elegant face. His entire manner exuded arrogance. I bristled as his bold crimson gaze swept over me.

“Well?” he demanded, his voice high and hoarse, as though he had a damaged vocalizer.

“Nova is ready to fly,” Optimus said, outwardly oblivious to my glare.

“About time,” the Decepticon said. “You’ve put it off long enough.”

I wanted to snap at him or strike him for his impudence, but didn’t dare. Prime didn’t reprimand him either. _Typical._ “Nova, this is Starscream. Your instructor.” He turned back to the Seeker and I frowned. He hadn’t introduced _me_. Slaves were expected to know their master’s family, but Optimus was always treating the Decepticons like people.

I focused in time to see Optimus giving something to Starscream. It looked like the permit he’d given me on the way down, but with more to scroll through. “A temporary flying permit,” he said. “Only effective when Nova is with you.” Starscream held the datapad like a priceless treasure as he absorbed its contents.

We took a shuttle to the outskirts of Iacon. I was still annoyed with Optimus, but secretly I felt a tingle of excitement in my fuel lines. I was going to _fly_. I was going to defy gravity, escape from the restrictive confines of Cybertron’s surface. How many of my classmates could do that?

Optimus saw us off the shuttle and gave me one last lecture about obeying my instructor before bidding us farewell. I felt abandoned as the shuttle left, but I schooled my expression into aloof unconcern before turning to face my unwanted companion. I would take his instruction, but I was still ten thousand times his superior. The red symbols on my wings were all the proof I needed.

But the look was wasted, because the Seeker was already walking away and I had to hurry to catch up.


	2. Starscream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have the high ground in this skirmish."

A breem into the first lesson, I decided that Starscream was easily the most impudent slave I’d ever been trapped with. When we reached the open area, he stopped and faced me, arms crossed.

“Listen closely,” he said. “I’m doing this for Prime, not you, but my respect for him has its limits. So does my patience with sparklings. I have the high ground in this skirmish. I know what I’m doing and you don’t, so you’ll do as I say.”

Of all the impudence! I clenched my fists in an effort to curb my temper. _What would Optimus do?_ Optimus would cater to his every whim.

Still, Starscream had a point. Whether I liked it or not, he had power over me. Considering I was to spend a great amount of time in the air with Starscream as my only safety net, I had no choice. There were ways to assert my superiority short of open rebellion. I would do what he said, but I wouldn’t like it.

I didn’t leave the ground for a few orbits, though now that I _had_ to learn I was eager to try. Starscream flew first, darting into the sky, soaring, twirling, looping, barrel-rolling, light flashing off of his faded armor. When he landed, his optics were bright. It must have been his first flight in vorns, maybe even astrocycles. He must have felt—it didn’t matter. Decepticons weren’t programmed to _feel_ like Autobots.

As the orbits passed, my flying grew steadier. I stopped worrying about the ground far below. In place of the fear came delight—this was _wonderful_! I’d never felt so free in my life. If I hadn’t needed to refuel, I doubted that I would ever have come down.

Starscream stayed beside me, physically supporting me the first several times I left the ground. I grew to grudgingly respect his skill in the air, even to trust his taloned hands, which caught me when I fell or repaired my circuitry after I crashed. These crashes, fortunately, grew less frequent. I never enjoyed hauling myself out of craters.

Starscream had the irritating habit of looking me straight in the optics. Optimus’s soft treatment had made him bold indeed if he thought he could stare at an Autobot. Most would have beaten him. Unfortunately he wasn’t mine to punish.

Once Starscream didn’t meet me at our usual training ground. I troubled myself to descend to the slave quarters and pound on his door (Optimus had never given me the override code). When he answered, he was grimier than usual, scuffed and dirtied. There was a dent in the side of his helm and his cockpit was cracked.

“What happened to _you_?” I asked automatically, startled despite myself. That sounded like I actually cared, so I added, “You look like slag.” He looked down his nose at me, optics flaring in irritation. “Mouth off to the wrong mech?”

His expression looked remarkably like a pout. “No lesson today. Go away before I say something I’ll regret.”

“You’re either brave or stupid.”

I’d expected a glare, but he surprised me with a lopsided smirk.

“Or insane, which becomes more and more a possibility. Now go away.”

Soon enough I could take to the air with ease. I responded to the mutters of my classmates with something else I’d learned from Starscream: unconcerned contempt. I was above them. I refused to consider the implications when Starscream used that same attitude on me. He was a Decepticon, lower than slag. I was his superior.

In the Academy, we learned it like this: Decepticons had served Autobots from the beginning, but they revolted time and again, losing more of their freedom with each crushed rebellion. There had been another one before I was Sparked, which explained the reconstruction still going on in some areas of the city, the scars that still remained in our planet’s surface. It seemed like the Decepticons deserved everything they had gotten. But Starscream… Starscream didn’t _act_ inferior. He didn’t seem like a mech who’d been a slave all his life.

How I survived Starscream those first few vorns is a mystery even to me. I became desensitized to his biting remarks and acidic wit through prolonged exposure. Not an orn went by that I didn’t hear his rasping voice complaining about something.

The orns turned to orbits and the orbits turned to vorns. Soon it would be time for me to exchange my protoform for an adult body. I began to venture further from my comfortable home and mingle with others. Not only was I introduced to a variety of Autobots but also to a variety of Decepticons. Most slaves were weak, stunted creatures missing plating, optics, even limbs. They were as silent as slaves were expected to be—some had ragged gaps where their vocal processors should have been—but there was hatred in every action.

Every time they disobeyed and insulted their Autobot masters, they were beaten. Pain fueled anger, leading to disobedience. Prime’s slaves were different. Ironically, Optimus’ soft treatment made them more docile, rather than more rebellious.

When I mentioned this to Prime, he watched me silently for a long moment. I couldn’t read his expression behind his facemask, and I shifted uncomfortably under his piercing blue gaze.

“What kind of master would you be, Nova?” he asked at last.

I hesitated. Several vorns ago I would have been just like those other mechs. I’d fantasized about ripping out Starscream’s vocalizer myself more than once. Now I wasn’t sure. I thought of the way Starscream acted around the other Autobots, then compared it to the way he behaved towards Optimus.

Maybe I was finally going soft, like Optimus, but… something just didn’t add up. There was something more to this, the Autobots and the Decepticons. Something that Optimus wanted me to see—that was why he had put me with Starscream.

“Your kind,” I said finally. “It’s better to be respected than feared.”

“In my experience, a kind word is better incentive than all the electrowhips on the planet.” He retracted his mask and smiled. My Spark stirred; Optimus’ smile meant more to me than a hundred words of praise. “Remember that, Nova.”


	3. Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had made my choice, and I wouldn’t turn back.

The orn after my conversation with Prime, Starscream pronounced me of sufficient aerial skill to discontinue our daily lessons. “But that’s only the tip of the iceberg.” I had no idea what an iceberg was, but I got the idea. “There’s more I can teach you, if you’ll deign to show up every so often.”

It seemed I wasn’t as free of Starscream as I’d hoped. During the following orbits he seemed to be everywhere I went, with the exception of my private quarters. I did my best to ignore him, but curiosity finally got the better of me. I cornered him after our most recent “coincidental” run-in, the streets just outside of the Academy.

“Why are you still here?” I demanded. “Don’t you have duties to attend to?”

He stared at me for a klik, then proceeded to laugh. I scowled, missing the joke. When he was through, his face was still lit with amusement. “You _are_ my duties.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Didn’t Prime tell you?” I shook my head and he quirked an optic ridge. “I’d hate to spoil the surprise. Why not ask him?”

* * *

 

Optimus acted like this was obvious. “Because he’s yours,” he said. I must have looked as astonished as I felt.

“What… _mine_?”

Prime nodded. “He’s belonged to you since you were a sparkling.”

“Wh… but why?”

“I gave him to you the orn you were Sparked.”

“But…” That didn’t really answer my question, but Optimus could keep his secrets when he wanted to. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What use would a protoform have for a slave? Think, Nova. How would you have treated Starscream?”

I opened my mouth to speak, remembered the beaten, hate-filled Decepticons bound to other Autobots, and closed it again.

“You see?” Optimus went on. “To hold another mech’s life in your hands is a grave responsibility. Our conversation showed me that you are now mature enough to take on that responsibility. I’m not asking you to change immediately… only remember that, though they wear a different symbol and have optics of a different color, Decepticons are as Cybertronian as you.”

* * *

 

“You might have told me,” I accused Starscream later.

To which he replied in his usual insolent manner: “Why, so I could have spent the past twenty vorns fetching you rust sticks?”

“I don’t _need_ this,” I grumbled. I didn’t stop to think that several vorns ago I would have leapt at the opportunity to own a slave to show off to the other Autobots.

“I’m not finished with you. There’s more I can teach you, if you’ll believe me.”

“What can you teach me that the Academy can’t?” I scoffed.

He raised an optic ridge. “If you hear only one side of a story, you’ll never know the truth.”

“I know the truth,” I growled, unsettled. I knew the only side of the story that mattered… didn’t I? “I don’t need you twisting it.”

Starscream turned away with a shrug. “When you get curious… just ask.”

* * *

 

Eventually I began to notice things.

It started with Starscream. I saw more of him than any other Decepticon—than any other mech, really. The way even his smirks had moods: the pleased smirk, the amused smirk, the ever-infuriating “I know something you don’t know” smirk. The way his optic shutters were slanted to shield the sensors from high-altitude sunlight. The glyphs engraved into his helm and along the upper edges of his wings, spelling out what made Starscream who he was: speed, agility, freedom.

Over the vorns all his quirks and habits became familiar. I learned something of his history, scattered references to a far-gone time. I learned of his wingmates, Thundercracker and Skywarp, closer than family. I couldn’t imagine being completely connected to two others, much less being separated from them. I also heard the designation Skyfire, though this character in Starscream’s past remained shrouded in mystery for some time. And occasionally he referred to another mech.

“If _he_ were here,” he would murmur to himself, or “I wonder what _he_ would think of that…”

Then, to my utter horror, it was the other Decepticons. I began to recognize them, to remember their designations and personalities. My optics grew to see that they were as diverse as the Autobots in size, shape and altmode. I saw faded colors beneath vorns of grime. Their optics varied in shade, ranging from deep purple to pale pink to nearly orange.

Starscream was right: though I occasionally found some menial task for him, teaching was the most valuable service he had to offer. He showed me complex aerial maneuvers and instructed me in the ways of Seekers, despite my protests that this knowledge was useless. He never repeated his offer to tell me what the Autobots allegedly had to hide, but I didn’t forget it. “When you get curious,” he’d said… slag, _anyone_ would be curious after that.

Having Starscream as a near-constant presence wasn’t as aggravating as I feared. He would complain mightily and do as he pleased, to a point… but if I told him to be quiet, he didn’t speak a word, and if I told him to leave me alone, he vanished until I sought him out.

I graduated from the Academy on schedule. My lines were humming in excitement all decacycle; I was eager to get this ceremony over with. Optimus had promised that I would be upgraded into my adult form. A real body at last, one not towered over by Prime and Ironhide and Starscream, one worth caring for and modifying.

A decacycle before graduation, I went with Optimus and Starscream to choose my new body. Ratchet, one of Prime’s close friends, would oversee the transfer. Despite my general aversion to medics, I liked him. He never treated me like a sparkling. Even better, he’d never remarked on my wings or my optics.

Optimus and Starscream stopped outside. When I looked back in confusion, Prime said, “He’s waiting inside.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Make yourself who you want to be,” Optimus said. “It will be easier without us looking over your shoulders.”

Ratchet was waiting when I entered, red-and-white arms crossed over his windshield, one pede tapping impatiently. “ _There_ you are,” he said when he saw me. “You’re late.”

“Traffic,” I said.

“You’ve got wings, use them.” He beckoned me to follow him. “Given any thought to your new body?”

More like an endless back-and-forth argument in my processor. For most of my life I would have given anything to be like everyone else: wingless, wheeled, groundbound. If it meant an end to the staring, the muttering, the utter humiliation of being a Seeker, I would have swapped this form for that of a normal Autobot in a nano-klik. If it meant separating myself from the slaves, disposing of my accidental resemblance to a Decepticon, I would have done it.

And yet…

Now I knew flight. I had fired up my thrusters and shot into the air, sliced through clouds with ease. I had felt wind rushing over these wings that had caught the subtle currents of Cybertron’s atmosphere and carried me into the sky. Could I give up _that_? Could I keep myself tied to the surface forever?

The same questions had chased themselves around and around in my processor for vorns. It would be impractical to take wheels now that I’d learned to fly. _But I could adapt._ Optimus would disapprove. _But he would understand._ Starscream would disapprove. _But who cares?_

 _Make yourself who you want to be._ But who _did_ I want to be?

By the time we reached Ratchet’s workshop, I had come to a decision. It was less logic than gut feeling, but after all, my mind could change someday. My Spark wouldn’t.

* * *

 

While I was offline, I dreamed. Sometimes a mech’s processor ran active during recharge, flitting half-conscious through old memory files or spilling nonsense patterns from imagined optic images. Perhaps because my processor had been roiling with thoughts of flight, I dreamed of the sky, endless blue with gold-pink clouds scudding across it.

When I emerged, I took great satisfaction in seeing their faces: Prime’s smiling, so proud that it warmed my Spark; Starscream’s shocked at first before sliding into a knowing smirk.

“Not even blue optics?” he teased.

“It suits you,” Optimus said.

I lifted my chin proudly. In my new form I was taller than Starscream, but still smaller than Optimus. In make and model I strongly resembled Starscream, with enough personal touches to set us apart. I didn’t want a bright or optic-catching color scheme, so I had been painted mostly silver, with highlights of intense red. The Autobot sigil held a place of prominence on my wings—that should get their attention. Let them stare. I had made my choice, and I wouldn’t turn back.


	4. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Or are you afraid of the truth?"

Optimus was right; my new body suited me. Not only did I look different, I _felt_ different. Being taller and stronger felt _wonderful_. All the disbelieving looks, even the disgusted ones, delighted me. Let them look.

Though sometimes the stares held unexpected emotions. Some of the older Autobots did double-takes when they first saw me, and watched me strangely later. The same thing happened to the Decepticons. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing a Seeker wearing the red Autobot insignia. They would stare at me, halting in their work, until I gave them my best haughty glare and they turned away. Even Starscream, though he spent so much time with me that he should be used to it, sometimes looked at me as though he hadn't expected to see me. It was utterly _infuriating_.

When I became fed up with one Autobot too many goggling at me, I stormed down to the slave quarters to demand answers from Starscream. I pounded on the door. "Starscream!"

A moment later. "Nova?"

"Yes. Let me in."

There was a suspicious scuffling sound. "Wait a klik."

"Now," I commanded. There was a pause before Starscream opened the door. My initial fear that I had accidentally interrupted an intimate rendezvous was—mercifully—unfounded, but there was some activity at what passed for a desk. I walked over, Starscream just behind me. Various parts and tools were arrayed across the surface surrounding a partly-finished cylindrical object. My Spark skipped a pulse. Surely Starscream couldn't be… "What is this?"

He hesitated, looking from me to the workspace and back. "It's a null ray," he answered finally.

"And what is _that_?"

"A weapon."

My vents stopped their circulation. A _weapon_. Starscream—a Decepticon, a _slave_ —was building a weapon. It was unthinkable. It was certainly illegal, violating the first and foremost article of the slave code. I picked it up, noticing that some parts had been cannibalized from Starscream's nonvital systems, while others must have been stolen. These parts… Primus, these _tools_ shouldn't even have been in Starscream's possession. If Starscream could get his hands on these, then what could other Decepticons be stockpiling?

"Slaves aren't allowed weapons."

"I know."

Didn't he realize what it meant? If anyone found out about this, there would be uproar! Slaves with weapons… slaves stealing parts, maybe energon, maybe worse…! Didn't he know the penalty?

"If I were anyone else… slag, if _you_ were anyone else, I'd have you terminated," I told him. He met my optics fearlessly.

"I know."

"Then _why_?" I demanded. "Why are you doing this?"

"In anticipation."

That brought me up short. "Of what?!"

"Well," he said, a bit too innocently, "if anything were to happen, I imagine it would begin in Iacon. Best to be prepared for that sort of thing."

"Don't say that!" I snapped, dropping the null ray back where I'd found it and taking two steps back, as if it might bite. Why me? Why, of all mechs, did I own the most impudent, arrogant, fragging _fearless_ slave on all of Cybertron? Why was he telling _me_ this?

"Welcome to reality, Nova," Starscream said. "We won't be slaves forever."

"But that's the way things _are_! Decepticons are slaves, Autobots are masters… that's how it has to be! It's always been that way!"

He shook his head. "That's what the Autobots say to make themselves feel righteous. We weren't meant to be slaves. We were so much more than that, Nova, we _will_ be again!"

"What 'we?!' I'm an Autobot."

"I can tell you everything," he said softly. "Everything they never told you. Everything they lied about or covered up or ignored. Or are you afraid of the truth?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," I said. I wanted to believe everything the Academy had taught – I _had_ to believe it. What else could I cling to, if everything I had ever accepted about Autobots and Decepticons was a lie?

"The truth may turn everything you think you know upside-down."

"I'm not afraid of anything," I repeated. Starscream smiled and gestured towards the berth, the only surface besides the desk that I could sit on.

"Then I suggest you make yourself comfortable. This is a long story."


	5. Megatron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And one gladiator was better than the rest.

They called it the Golden Age. They called it a time of liberty and prosperity, of credits and energon for everyone. And it was fine for some. The upper class, the wealthy Autobots, the Senate, the mechs in the glittering towers of Iacon or the upper levels of Polyhex. They recharged, went to work, came home to a family and some energon cubes.

They never stopped to think about where their energon came from. They never saw the mines, the dark holes in rocks far from Cybertron, in the outliers. They never saw the miners, filthy mechs who knew only the swing of a pick and the flash of unstable, unrefined energy crystals. They never spent orns down there in the stifling heat, never sure whether the next swing would strike an explosive shard and bury them all, never sure they could scrape enough crystals from the rock to meet their quotas _and_ earn their daily ration. They never lost their jobs to drones, never had to look for an occupation with no experience, no cleanliness, no friends in high places.

For the rich it was the Golden Age. For the powerful, it was an age of corruption, bribery, stockpiling.

For the rest, there was a shortage of energon, a shortage of jobs. There was a dark Altihex, practically a ghost town. There was a crumbling Vos, the ground littered with lifeless frames of fliers who hadn't even had the energon to continue functioning.

And there was Kaon. The unemployed miners came here, the outcast factory or military builds came here; poor mechs from all over Cybertron poured into Kaon's lawless underbelly in search of credits and energon.

Kaon was the capital of Cybertron's criminal underworld. The black market, the bootlegging, the prostitution rings, the arena fights. The only way to _survive_ was to elbow your way into one of these shady establishments. The gladiators of the arena were worshipped by the rest of the lowly, dirty, hungry poor. And one gladiator was better than the rest.

His name was Megatron. He had been a miner on one of Cybertron's moons, before he was replaced by automation. So he had come to Kaon, and he had caught someone's optic, and he had been introduced to the vicious sport of arena fighting. These were no-holds-barred battles to termination—enough to stamp out weaknesses like kindness, pity, or mercy.

Megatron could please a crowd without trying. He had the perfect build: tall and imposing, a powerful tank altmode, well-kept silver armor, scarlet optics. He was a natural fighter, champion of the arena, having slaughtered his way up the ranks, and commanded incredible power. The best fighters clamored to join him, and everyone in the underworld admired him.

There was something _about_ Megatron that made them love him. It was evident whenever they spoke his name in reverent tones. _Megatron will free us,_ they said. _Megatron will lift us to the sky. Megatron will end our hunger._

He saw the corruption of the Senate. He had borne the load while the Autobots ate rust sticks. And Megatron had ideas. He made plans. It started small—thefts, riots, threats. And when the Senate refused to act, it grew. Bombings. Kidnappings. And then it became massive: a planetwide strike for freedom and justice, the liberation of the poor and hungry, with Megatron at their head. The Decepticons rose up from the darkness, from the seedy depths, battling the old ways that had driven them down.

It should have been easy. The Autobots should have seen the error of their ways. Surely they could see that the uprising was for the best! Surely they wouldn't stop their counterparts from taking their rightful place in the world. But they did, and so the display of unity became a war, and the war went on.

And on.

For thousands of astrocycles the Great War raged, the Autobots stubbornly refusing to give in. The leaders of the opposing forces, Megatron and Optimus Prime, each believed that his respective faction was in the right. The War eventually drained Cybertron of its resources and the Autobots and Decepticons went out into the galaxy to continue their battle. Countless planets were devastated in the crossfire, scoured of energy sources. The Autobots committed atrocities that the Decepticons had never foreseen.

Circumstances drove the War to a blue planet called "Earth" by its people. Tiny, primitive organics calling themselves "humans." The assistance of the humans was the push the Autobots needed and the Decepticon forces were weakened. They battled each other in the space between Earth and Cybertron, near the Axis cluster.

It was the most devastating space battle of the War. Countless mechs were terminated. Finally a chance shot broke through the shields of the Decepticon flagship, _Nemesis_ , and destroyed the bridge along with Megatron… an anticlimactic end. The universe loves cruel jokes.

After Axis, the Autobots brought the surviving Decepticons back to Cybertron, which had revived over the astrocycles.

Do you know what an astrocycle is? A thousand vorns. Can you imagine an astrocycle? Now imagine ten thousand astrocycles. Ten _million_ vorns of war. The Academy gives it maybe fifty at most… and they never mention Megatron's name.

Just the word gave us hope, once. Now, if an Autobot hears us say it, we'll be beaten to scrap. Because the power that strengthens us frightens them. They're afraid of a ghost.

The Senate reinstated itself after Axis—all Prime’s talk about giving power back to the people just played into their hands. They pushed the Decepticons down even further than before, making them slaves.

Do you know what it is to be a slave? It's taking the energon you're given because you'll offline if you miss a day's ration. It's taking orders when you don't want to; it's being divided; it's being powerless; it's having wings but being chained to the ground. It's remembering what it was like to be free.

During the War, we were powerful. We had energon, we had identities. We could talk and drink and recharge and fly whenever we liked. But now we have nothing. No chain of command, no trines, no gestalts. The Autobots took every precaution.

But we are strong. We _will_ rise again. All it takes is a memory, a ghost, the whisper of a name.

 _Megatron_.


	6. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You asked for something to believe. My answer is this: nothing is black or white.

Starscream complemented his story with databursts, transmitting memories of specific battles and the downtime between them, contrasting the monotony and harshness of pre-War survival with the delicious freedom of the War. Through him I felt true hunger for the first time—it was enough fool my systems into sending low energon warnings. He even shared the aftermath of Axis, how he had been separated from his wingmates and put into a crowded brig for the long journey back to Cybertron, before being chained and put on a work crew to rebuild Iacon piece by piece.

I first saw Megatron through Starscream’s memory. He was larger even than Prime, a blend of smooth curving plates and jagged edges, a study in gray and red. He was a walking weapon, terrifying and beautiful at once.

And, from Starscream, a torrent of emotions: fear, awe, respect, bitterness, resentment, admiration, attraction, revulsion, hatred. I was startled by his vivid memories of Megatron. Processing the databursts he'd sent me—a small eternity in a few kliks – I realized that there was still so much that I didn't know about Starscream's past.

A lifetime’s worth of leftover hatred for the Autobots raged in my Spark. It was a dizzying rush of foreign feelings and dangerous thoughts. A weaker mech might have sworn allegiance to the Decepticon cause and vowed to avenge Megatron right there—but these were Starscream's emotions, not mine.

That knowledge didn't help my deeper conflict. What Starscream had told me was completely different from what I had been taught. Part of me wanted to deny it. The other part _knew_ somehow that there was truth in his words and _wanted_ to trust him—to join him.

These two factions waged their own ferocious war inside me. I no longer knew what was true. I no longer knew what to believe. I couldn't trust the Academy. I couldn't trust Starscream. I couldn't even trust _myself_ with such raw emotions destabilizing me.

But there was one mech I _could_ trust.

I stood abruptly and left his tiny room, making my way out of the slave quarters. Every face I saw now had a name attached—Demolisher, Scrapper, Bombshell, more and more Decepticons I'd seen in the memories Starscream had chosen to give me. It only added to my disorientation.

If I'd rejected the depressing gloom of the Decepticon quarters, now the light of the upper levels seemed too bright. A lie. This purity, this light, was a façade—or was that only Starscream planting doubt in my Spark like a virus?

Starscream followed at the very edge of my sensors' range, matching my pace. He stopped outside of Prime's study, leaving me to go on alone.

Optimus was speaking with Ironhide when I entered, a bulky red-and-black groundling, one of Prime's closest friends. He'd had a good-natured relationship with me, once. After my upgrade his attitude had changed: he kept staring at me, jumping when he caught sight of me. Once, he had been so jumpy that he had actually taken defensive action. Starscream, of course, had found it hilarious. I saw nothing funny about being slammed into a wall and staring down the barrel of a very large cannon until Ironhide realized it was me.

Optimus took one look at my face and his optics flashed with concern. "Would you excuse us, Ironhide?" he asked politely. Ironhide grumbled, but didn't seem genuinely annoyed. No sooner had the door hissed shut behind him than I stormed forward and slammed my hands down on Prime’s desk. He looked calmly across at me—even seated, he could look me straight in the optics when I was bent forward.

"What's the matter, Nova?" he asked, his patient, deep voice immediately siphoning some of the tension from my frame.

I didn't tell him about the weapon Starscream was building. Besides that, I told him everything. I could sense his expression darkening into a frown under his mask. When I wound down, he gestured to my usual chair and I sank into it, feeling drained.

"I'm… confused," I finished plaintively. "I want to know the truth. I trust you, Optimus. Tell me what to believe."

He surveyed me over his mask for a moment before retracting it with a sigh. He looked more tired than I'd ever seen him.

"I can tell you the truth," he said, "or as close to the truth as I've gotten... but which story you believe is up to you.

"Much of what Starscream told you is accurate. Megatron may at one time have believed in justice and freedom. It is true that the Senate was decadent, but not all Autobots were blind to the troubles of the time. Sentinel Prime led the Autobots then. He was critical of the Senate, devoted to law and order. He fought Megatron, and began the War. Yet if he hadn't fought, Megatron would have covered the planet with his vision of peace, created on the ruins of his enemies.

"Megatron... was a natural leader and a powerful fighter. If he once fought for freedom and equality, he lost sight of that goal. Eventually, he fought for the destruction of all Autobots.

"Axis was one of the true tragedies of the War. Many Autobots and Decepticons fought and died in that final battle, including Megatron. He may have been my enemy, but he deserved better. They all deserve better.

"I have seen cruel Autobots and kind Decepticons, terrible things done by both sides. I’ve made mistakes of my own, and for that I decided to step back from my power after the War—which may have been my greatest mistake, if it allowed the Decepticons to be enslaved. You asked for something to believe. My answer is this: nothing is black or white. Autobots can be evil, Decepticons good. You can never be sure of what others tell you, but you can always be sure of what you feel in your own Spark. Find your own truth, and wherever it takes you, hold onto it."

His words calmed me. "Thank you, Optimus."

"There's something I should tell you about Starscream."

"Something _else_ you forgot to tell me?"

Regret flickered across his face. "I'd hoped you wouldn't need to know. But it's for your own sanity…” He chuckled before seriousness was back. "…and your safety. Starscream is sworn under Spark-oath to obey and protect you at any cost, even at the expense of his own life."

I stared at Prime. An oath taken during Sparkmerge was the most solemn vow a Cybertronian could take. If Starscream broke that vow, his Spark would burn itself out in an immensely slow and painful termination.

It took two to Sparkmerge. I voiced it awkwardly. "D-did you...?"

"Primus, no.”

"Then who did he swear to?"

"That is for Starscream to tell. I respect his privacy and so should you."

I nodded, chastised.

"I hope that I have been able to help you, Nova. Would you send Starscream in?"

He offered no explanation, so I asked no questions.

Starscream waited just outside.

"You didn't tell me you're bound to me," I said.

"What Decepticon in his right mind would give an Autobot that sort of power?"

Something in the way he said it made me scowl. "Prime wants to talk to you," I told him. He huffed and entered the office. I turned up my audio receptors.

"What do you want, Prime?"

"I want you to stop this," Optimus said.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"What you're doing to Nova."

"Doing to him?"

"I won't let you turn him into another Megatron."

There was a long silence inside.

Finally Starscream spoke again, lazy and unperturbed.

"He was Sparked that way."

* * *

 

He came out looking triumphant. I waited until the door shut before confronting him.

"What was that?" I demanded.

"What was what?"

"That. In there."

He arched an optic ridge at me, still smirking. "It's called a 'conversation.' It's what Autobots do when they get bored."

"You know something."

"I know many things."

"You know about _me_ ," I persisted. "About my creators. Who are they?"

He shook his head and made as though to pass me. I rephrased the request into an order. "Tell me who they are."

Starscream’s narrowed optics bored into mine. After a long moment of frowning, his mouthplates twisted the other way, his expression one of delicious, teasing defiance. "I don't think I'll tell you."

"You have to."

"Not if telling you would threaten your life," he said, "and since my Spark isn't devouring me from the inside out, I think my logic is sound."

"That’s a weak loophole. I'll get it out of you someday.”

His optics burned even brighter with some private joke.

"Someday."


	7. Whole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something had to be done. Someone had to do it.

Over the following orbits, I went to learn what I could with my own optics, exploring the city to observe the daily lives of the Decepticons. Like Autobots, they refueled and recharged. They got by on one or two cubes of energon per day. That wasn't life—only _survival_.

I read the Axis Decree, which had sentenced the defeated Decepticons to slavery, and the resulting slave code. All my life I'd had a sense of what Decepticons should or shouldn't do—speak when spoken to, don't look your master in the optics—but now I discovered just how many things they _couldn't_ do. They couldn't buy, sell, or trade without special permission; they could only gather during certain times of the orn and then under strict supervision; any slave speaking before a group would be executed. In fact, an uncomfortable number of these crimes were punished by execution. There were more model-specific laws—weapons to be dismantled, flight disabled, some of the more formidable alt-modes suppressed, certain abilities removed. The Autobots truly had taken every precaution, right down to splitting up all teams, trines, and gestalts, dispersing them as far as possible.

Decepticons had fuel lines and circuits and plating just like Autobots. Only ideals separated us. Only minute differences in programming or construction set us apart.

I tried to imagine what it must have been like for Starscream, unable to fly, separated from those closest to him… I couldn't. I tried to imagine living on a cube a day, that burning ache in my fuel tank, but I couldn't. I had never lived that way. I had lived an easy life, uncaring of those beneath me, exactly like the Autobots before the War.

This could not go on. Optimus knew it, Starscream knew it, and now I knew it, too. Something had to change, somehow. Prime had too much faith in the Senate. There were some Autobots who believed in Prime's "freedom is the right of all sentient beings" philosophy, but not enough, never enough. The Senate cared nothing for the Decepticons except as free labor. The Neutrals—I knew nothing of the Neutrals, but I'd always looked down on them with only slightly less disgust than Decepticons. How was I to know their opinion? That left only the Decepticons themselves. No one would come to their aid.

Something had to be done. Someone had to do it.

* * *

Starscream was the key. He was already preparing for an upheaval of some sort. It wasn't enough to have his servitude: I needed to gain his trust. It wouldn't be easy. Starscream wasn't the type to give his trust lightly. I had to find some way to get well into his good graces.

I had a generous allowance from the Prime, an account full of credits that I hardly used, and a hundred vorns of buildup had left me a small fortune. That left only one problem, but I was counting on Prime's help.

Prime's mask was off when I entered his office. He greeted me, setting aside his datapad. I took my usual seat.

"I'm going to buy some slaves," I told him. Even though my intentions were good, the disappointed look on his face twisted my Spark.

"You don't need my permission," he said.

"But I _do_ need your help." I explained the rest of my plan. By the time I finished, he was smiling.

"I'll do what I can," Prime said. He watched me for a moment. "Only a few vorns ago, you'd never have considered anything of the sort."

I pondered that as Optimus searched the records. I _had_ changed. I couldn't pinpoint the exact date, but since meeting Starscream I had changed, so slowly that I'd barely noticed. I wondered if this was what Optimus had hoped for all along. I wondered if this was what Starscream had intended.

"Here," Optimus said after a time. "Gygax and Praxus. Would you like to download the specifics?"

I uplinked to the console for the rest of the information. "Thank you."

"And I'll take care of everything with the Senate."

I smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Optimus."

* * *

I was faster in my altmode, so I transformed as soon as I was out of the city and pushed myself to top speed, enjoying the wind on my wings. At this velocity, Praxus was three megacycles from Iacon. Long and lonely, especially for a solo flight.

I disliked flying alone. It was part of my Seeker programming. When I flew on my own I was distinctly aware of the gaping void behind me, yearning for wingmates.

I'd never flown across this territory before, so I had plenty to distract me. My altmode had no optical sensors, but I could sense the shape of the land below me, the types of metal and the formations and chasms that covered most of Cybertron's surface. I passed high over cities, not wanting to attract too much attention or send anyone into a panic.

I transformed back to bipedal mode as I came into the city-state of Praxus. It didn't look much like the glittering spires of Iacon. The main city was constructed in a regular grid pattern, unlike Iacon's loops and swirls. The streams of traffic were the same, individuals on the streets and shuttles in the air. The mechs themselves were of Praxean make: short, bulky, made for heavy work. The fashion of the moment was a monochrome color scheme.

I headed for the outskirts. Here dirty, faded mechs worked in lines. Some chopped and pulled metal from the ground. Others carried the extracted metal into a massive building which poured smoke. As I passed over, 'cons paused in their strutbreaking work until their overseers compelled them to continue. It had been a hundred vorns since they'd seen a Seeker in flight.

Upon landing, I was cautiously approached by three or four armed guards. The red sigils on my wings gave them pause. Finally, one of them came forward. He looked like he was desperately trying to hide his terror.

"This area's restricted," he said, attempting to conceal his fear behind a mask of authority… and failing miserably. Praxus was poor, and I looked rich… I could use that to my advantage.

"I have business with Axlerod," I said. "I could go elsewhere, if he doesn't…"

"No, no!" the unfortunate 'bot said quickly. "I'll take you to him right away."

He led me inside the factory. It was blazingly hot and smoky. Seekers' vents were extraordinarily delicate, so I didn't look forward to staying in here for very long. I wished my guide would walk faster.

We went through a door into a corridor filled with clean air and light. I cycled a few grateful intakes, trying not to be too obvious, as the mech showed me into a small office.

Axlerod was a thick-limbed yellowish mech with wheels on his upper arms enhancing his bulk—his altmode was probably a hefty load-bearing truck. He had an unpleasant smile, an oily voice, and twitching fingers. After I introduced myself and my errand, a greedy light came into his optics. I was hard-pressed to hide my loathing. When it seemed too much to bear, I looked out of the window behind him at the leaden sky.

"Looking for a slave," he echoed—he had a habit of slowly repeating my words. "Did you have anything special in mind?"

"I'd like a mech who shares my capabilities," I said.

"A flyer, then?" he oozed.

"A Seeker."

"A Seeker," he pondered, sitting back. "Terrible workers, Seekers… no offense meant… distractible. Not built for heavy lifting… terrible attention span… no offense meant…"

"You sound as though you've had some experience."

"Work crew's no place for a Seeker… no offense meant… get them in the berth, no compare… no off—"

I shot up, optics blazing. It wasn't the first time I'd heard this sort of crass humor, but nobody had ever dared to say it to my face. "I can take my credits somewhere else," I snapped. He raised his hands in supplication, and I sat back down, unmollified.

Axlerod sent for the Seeker and spent the next few cycles giving me unsavory tidbits on keeping slaves in line. With each one I felt a growing desire to purge my tank, and I determined to delete each "tip" from my processor at the first opportunity. Before long, a guard entered with a filthy gray creature barely recognizable as a mech under the grime. Even so, the shape was familiar from Starscream's databursts. He stared right back at me.

Would anybody ever _not_ look at me like they'd seen a ghost?!

"Designation?" Axlerod asked. The guard cuffed the Seeker over the helm to encourage him.

"Skywarp," the 'con answered in a growl.

"Skywarp," Axlerod said, turning to the console and bringing up a file. "A troublemaker. Spends more time in solitary confinement than he does at work. We haven't broken him in yet… but give it time, give it time. Even the strongest will can break under the right pressure."

It felt wrong to haggle over the worth of a fellow mech, especially one who was still in the room. The occasional casual reminder that I could take my business elsewhere smoothed the way somewhat. I parted with a respectable amount of credits.

"And I'll need his thrusters enabled," I added when the deal had been sealed.

"You're letting him fly?"

"Are we supposed to _walk_ back to Iacon?" I replied acidly, finished being polite.

I waited for several breems in the corridor outside the scrap heap that passed for a medbay until Skywarp hobbled out.

"Perhaps we'll be doing business again sometime…?" Axlerod ventured. I gave him my best haughty Starscream glare.

"We'll see." _Like the Pit we will, slagface._

As soon as we were out of that building, Skywarp and I took stock of each other. Under the grease and grit, his washed-out purple-and-black paint was marred by patches and weld lines. The metal of his wrists was fractured and dented. Seeing where I was looking, he sneered at me.

"Didn't you hear Slagface? I spent lots of time in the stasis cuffs." He coughed through his vents, which were probably clogged from a centivorn in that smoke. A good flight should change that. "All the beatings in the world won't 'break' me, just so you know."

"I'm not interested in that. Come with me. I'll take you to your wingmates."

Skywarp's mouth opened in shock. I unsubspaced a cube of energon and offered it to him.

"Do you think you can fly to Gygax? Can you transform?"

"Gygax? You said we were going to Iacon."

"Gygax is where we'll find Thundercracker."

* * *

It took longer to reach Gygax than it had to reach Praxus, mainly because Skywarp's thrusters were still recovering. I was impressed the city's domes until I remembered that they had been re-crafted by Decepticon slaves.

The warden of the stockade, Surefire, was as opposite to Axlerod as it was possible to be. He stood tall and stern, blue optics shining from a white face. The red Autobot insignia on his chest stood out against his blue armor.

"Designation Thundercracker," he mused, his optics dimming as he perused his processor's databanks. "He's been here for a few decavorns. He was caught skulking after curfew. He's cooling his turbines in here until he gives a satisfactory explanation." He looked at me doubtfully, a hard edge to his mouthplates as he swept his optics across my wings, lingering on the red symbols for several kliks. I'd already shown him the message I'd brought with the Prime's seal. "You're sure he's the one the Prime wants?"

"Certain."

Surefire led the way down the lift tube and through dark passages lined with cells, lit only by dangerous red energy bars. Sullen mechs watched us pass, or rather, watched _me_ pass. Their stares prickled on my wings. How many of them had committed an actual crime, and how many were in here only for a violation of the harsh slave code?

Surefire stopped before a cell. The winged mech inside was only slightly less dirty than Skywarp, faded blue paint peeking out through the accumulated muck. He wore a pair of gleaming stasis cuffs.

"Designation Thundercracker?" Surefire barked. The Seeker looked up, optics glowing deep red. "That's him."

"Excellent," I said. "I'll need his thrusters repaired."

"But he might—"

"Those are the Prime's orders," I snapped, frustrated by the long orn of dealing with these mechs.

None of them quibbled with me after that, but performed the necessary transactions quickly. When Thundercracker emerged from the medbay, it even looked as though they'd hurried him through the washracks, though it would take a thorough scouring to get him completely clean.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth. His optics were equal parts wary and curious.

"My designation is Nova—"

"Who _are_ you?" he repeated. "You look like… but you're an Autobot."

That stung, somehow. "I'm a Seeker. I'm the Prime's ward. Follow me."

We reached the chamber where I'd left Skywarp fidgeting under the watchful optics of the stockade's guards. Thundercracker stopped suddenly. Skywarp flung himself forward, using his thrusters for an extra boost. They collided with a crash, Skywarp landing on top. He dealt a blow to the side of Thundercracker's helm.

"You fragging slagger! I've been so slagging worried about you, afthead!"

"It's not like I could drop in to see you," Thundercracker said. "Get off me, you're filthy."

"I don't _care_! A hundred vorns and _this_ is how you greet me?!"

Thundercracker grabbed the back of Skywarp's helm. "No," he growled. " _This_ is." He pulled his wingmate down and crushed their mouthplates together. After a klik, I realized I was staring and averted my optics.

"Primus, TC, I missed you," Skywarp gasped when they were done.

"Now get off me."

* * *

Darkness had fallen and the moons were up by the time we arrived in Iacon. We transformed as we came in towards Prime's spire. With the others following my lead, it was almost like having my own trine. Part of me mourned the wingmates I might never have.

I saw Starscream waiting on the landing pad. So did Skywarp and Thundercracker. Skywarp gave a wild cry of delight and slammed into him, followed by Thundercracker, and all three of them tumbled wings-over-turbines until they crashed into the wall in a frenzy of hands and wings and excited voices, punctuated by happy clicks and trills when it was too much to process into words.

Finally, they disentangled themselves. Starscream approached me, the strangest expression on his face.

"You," he tried. "Why…?"

"Because…"

I found myself at a loss for words. I didn't often feel the gaps at my sides, but when I did they yawned widely. Instead of saying anything out loud, I clenched my hand over my Spark, Seeker body language approximately translated as "whole," referring to a trine. Understanding glimmered briefly in his optics. Then, unexpectedly, he knelt before me, bowing his head. Thundercracker and Skywarp imitated him in the deepest gratitude a Seeker could express. I felt the circuitry behind my faceplates heating up in embarrassment.

"Get up," I said, flustered. In reuniting Starscream with his trine, I had successfully gained three allies… and perhaps a friend.


	8. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We can't sit back and wait for Primus to descend from the Matrix and set things right.

The orn after Thundercracker's and Skywarp's arrival, Starscream dragged them off to the washracks for a thorough cleansing. Optimus put in a word with Ratchet and the medic came, grumbling but businesslike. Thundercracker was better off than Skywarp, for the most part, but upon scanning his CPU Ratchet found several glitches and viruses requiring deletion. Skywarp was functional, but Ratchet insisted on undoing his sloppy patch-jobs to repair him properly.

I set about getting to know Starscream's wingmates.

Thundercracker was the largest of the trine. His optics had none of Starscream's orange tint and none of Skywarp's violet tinge. Facially, he was nearly identical to Skywarp. He was the quietest in voice, but this made him no less noticeable and no less intimidating. His flight engines made up for it with their deep rumble.

He was also the most even-tempered of the three. He kept his mouth shut most of the time, preferring to chase ideas around in his processor for a while before speaking. He shared Starscream's habit of watching me oddly, considering, puzzling, trying to fit pieces together.

Skywarp was loud and boisterous. He had a wicked sense of humor and a propensity for pranks that got him into trouble more often than not, forcing me to step in when he went too far. Since he was my slave, he was my responsibility. Though he strained my temper sometimes, I liked Skywarp. He claimed his tricks were his way of showing affection.

Besides Optimus, most Autobots disapproved of my actions. The hostility towards me increased, though it was usually kept behind a thin veil of courtesy.

"The Senate overlooked the infraction of the slave code for my sake, on condition that there would be no trouble," Optimus cautioned us. "If any of you commits a crime, there could be serious repercussions." Here he looked pointedly at me. "For all of you."

I had no intention of causing trouble and jeopardizing the trine. They had the right to be together; no Senate on this or any planet had the right to separate them.

Did the Senate have the right to limit altmodes, to stop Seekers from flying, to enslave their fellow mechs and silence their protests? How were Prime and I the only Autobots who seemed to realize this? Why did nobody do anything about it?

Well, I was prepared to do something. I'd thought long and hard about the consequences. I was ready.

I approached Starscream in his quarters, on his terms. He would feel more secure here, more likely to trust me.

"Starscream… do you have a cycle?"

"I always have time for my master," he said blandly. "What is it?"

"You're planning something," I said.

"What makes you say that?

"You're building weapons. You and your wingmates are always discussing something. You've already tried to get me on your side.”

Starscream smirked. "Is it that obvious?"

"I know you." I leaned forward. "If the Decepticons _are_ planning some kind of uprising…"

"You're in dangerous territory.”

"I know. But unless it's organized, it'll never fly. You must have a leader. The Autobots can't have completely destroyed the chain of command. Someone left over from the hierarchy during the War, one of Megatron's command team, surely the rest would turn to him as their leader. I want to talk to him."

Starscream crossed his legs and laced his fingers together, never taking his optics from me.

"Why?" he asked finally.

"Because I want to help," I said. Surprise flitted across his face.

"Why?" he asked again.

"Because we're all Cybertronian." I was echoing Optimus and knew it. "Autobots, Decepticons, we're the same. If things really were as bad as you say, or if the Decepticons just fought for the sake of fighting, that's no excuse for what's happening now. It’s wrong. Prime's done all he can to solve this without more fighting, but the Senate won't listen to talk. It would be wonderful if the world worked the way Prime does, if the Autobots actually held to their ideals and did the right thing. But it doesn't, and they don't. We can't sit back and wait for Primus to descend from the Matrix and set things right. We need to act. If fighting is the only way to make them see, then... we'll fight."

A faint smile hovered on Starscream's mouthplates when I finished.

"We?"

That made me freeze. We. Not them, _we_. With that one tiny choice of words, I'd cast my lot in with the Decepticons.

I cycled an intake. Rather than try to speak again, I nodded.

Starscream's smile widened. "Well," he said. "I hadn't expected a speech. It reminded me of someone else." He laughed, then leaned back, the very picture of relaxation. "I'm listening. Talk away."

It took me a moment to catch up. "What?"

He heaved a patient sigh. "You said you wanted to talk to the leader of the Decepticons. I'm listening."

I gaped. "Y-you?"

"Why such a surprise?" he asked irritably. "You don't think I could do it?"

"No, but… _you_?!"

He laughed at my incomprehension. "Me. I was Megatron's second-in-command. When he was terminated, I became commander of the Decepticons. That's why they gave me to Prime: the highest-ranking 'con under the watchful optics of the highest-ranking 'bot. And then he gave me to you. And catering to your whims while trying to run a war is no picnic on the energon farm, trust me."

"I thought the War was over."

He smiled darkly. "As long as the Autobots believe in their superiority over Decepticons, this war will never end."

"How do things stand?"

I'd heard of a slave escaping from time to time, but not in the numbers that Starscream described. Apparently, there was a network of Neutral settlements and hidden caves, a "path" of sorts that traveled to Kaon. The city had been nearly demolished and was still frequented by Autobot patrols, but it had a vast system of underground streets and tunnels. It was here that the remnants of the Decepticons gathered after the defeat at Axis. They waited now, gathering their strength. They were ready, Starscream said… ready to rise against the Autobots.

"What are they waiting for?" I asked. "You?"

He chuckled humorlessly. "Not for me. For a sign."

I couldn't help my dubious look. "A sign? What, you mean, a sign from Primus or something?"

He made an exasperated noise. "Why do you think nobody tried rising against the Autobots before Megatron? He was a sign that the time was right. He made them bold, stirred them up. He inspired them. They fought for him to the bitter end… they would fight for him again in a nano-klik." He smirked wryly. "But let's talk about you."

Starscream leaned forward, optics burning intently. "If you're serious about this," he said quietly, "then I have to tell you. I'm bound to protect you. I can’t do that and lead at the same time. And the moment someone finds out, however they do, sooner or later, that you're a Decepticon or a Decepticon sympathizer… they won't be picky… you're fair game for slavery. It's in the Axis Decree. I need to be certain that you can take care of yourself."

"Teach me to fight and you'll have less to worry about," I answered. "I'm ready."

"Good. There's just one more thing," he said. "I trust you… mostly… but I need you to take the Decepticon Oath."

"No," I said.

"I can't risk you betraying us."

I faced him down, unrelenting. "I want the Decepticons to be free, and I am ready to fight for that cause. But I won’t swear allegiance to you or any leader. You saw what happened to Megatron: he lost sight of his goal. If that happens to you, I won’t be sworn to follow you down that path."

He considered me in silence. Then he vented air. "Fine. You want to help. Then we'll see what you can do for us…"


	9. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You'd be surprised how creative desperate mechs can be."

Starscream let me accompany him when he dealt with his… our… fellow Decepticons. At first they were uneasy—I still had Autobot symbols on my wings—but eventually they grew used to me. That didn't stop them from casting me strange glances.

One Lugnut seemed particularly awe-stricken. He was huge and hulking, with graceless pincers on each hand and a single red optic in the center of what remained of his face. He was missing the lower part of his jaw, so could not speak beyond random mechanical sounds and bursts of static. He followed me as I followed Starscream. Just being around him for a breem or so had me looking over my shoulder for megacycles.

Starscream and I trained in a secluded area. Anyone who saw us would charge Starscream with attacking an Autobot—conveniently noticing my sigils when it benefited them.

"There's only so much I can teach you," Starscream said. "Hand-to-hand is not my forte, but that's all we've got until you're armed. Now, let's work on your stance."

After he'd hammered my stance into something acceptable, he spent orns teaching me to fall properly. Eventually he trained me both on the ground and in the air, with an emphasis on the latter. I discovered I had a knack for both.

When Starscream was busy, he sent Skywarp or Thundercracker instead. This was sometimes more enjoyable; I had grown used to Starscream's infinite condescension and sarcastic wit, but that didn't mean I _liked_ it. Skywarp was an enthusiastic sparring partner, leaving me panting and low on fuel. Thundercracker drilled me on the same techniques over and over again, until my body went through the movements with no hesitation. A few kliks could be the difference between life and death someday.

When I _did_ complain, it was at the end of a long and frustrating orn. The first few megacycles, I had been forced to entertain a visiting Senator, who had made no effort to conceal his opinion of me. Now Thundercracker had me drilling endlessly, practicing until I was ready to snap. I was alarmingly close to beating my processor out against the nearest hard surface, when Thundercracker called a halt. Now that I was still, I wanted nothing more than to be moving again. This aimless, chaotic feeling wouldn't go away. My fingers twitched and I shifted, uncomfortable.

"How long have you been groundbound?" he asked. I calculated the orns.

"About an orbit. Six orns or so."

He sighed. "Fly with me."

He shot into the sky and I blasted after him. Within a few kliks the buzz in my audios retreated. Thundercracker led me a merry chase across the city, dodging around towers and diving beneath roadways, and it was a challenge to keep up. After a few cycles I could focus again.

Thundercracker slowed high over the towers to let me catch up. I felt better than I had all orbit… weightless and free! He gave me a rare smile.

"Don't forget to fly," he said.

* * *

The ire of the Autobots grew over the next few vorns until each glare directed my way felt like a blast to the face from a plasma cannon. The whispers grew louder, too, snide comments about my model or my processor, my creators or my habits in the berth.

These I could ignore. It didn't matter what they thought of me. But when I caught a mutter about how Optimus preferred his berth warmed by four Seekers rather than just one, I pinned the offender against the nearest building with my hand at his throat.

"Say that again," I hissed.

Starscream pulled me off. "He's not worth your time," he said. _/Let it go,/_ he hissed over his comm. _/Here anyone can see us./_

"You stay out of this, scrap," the 'bot snarled. "Drag your port around somewhere else… that's all you Seekers are good for."

Starscream punched him. Hard.

The 'bot went down with a screech and his companion leapt at Starscream. I intercepted him, holding him back with difficulty: he was much bulkier than I.

Something clanged off of my helm. Two more clangs followed, accompanied by a familiar voice.

"Break it up, sparklings! And you, stop that hollering or I'll dent your faceplate worse than that!"

I rubbed my helm as Ratchet yanked the first mech to his pedes. The red-and-green mech blubbered more than was really necessary—Starscream had only dented his nose—but when Ratchet brandished a wrench at him, he muted it. The four of us stood meekly (except Starscream, who had never looked meek since he was Sparked). The security mechs finally arrived, blasters at the ready, but hesitated behind the medic.

"All right, any of you big tough mechs feel like explaining?" Ratchet growled.

Dent-Nose immediately piped up. "He attacked me," he whined, pointing at me. "They ganged up on me! They would have terminated me!"

"Oh, _please_ ," Starscream sneered. "Denting your ugly faceplates is hardly—"

"Silence, slave," one of the security mechs interrupted. He grabbed Starscream. Another came for me, but I wrenched from his hold.

"Don't _touch_ me!" I snapped. "And release him at once!"

"I wouldn't arrest them just yet, Officer," Ratchet said. "He's the Prime's ward, or didn't you see those Autobot symbols on his wings, right in front of your optics?" The officers let go, looking sheepish. "Nova?"

"He insulted the Prime," I said angrily.

"You attacked first," Ratchet said. "Let Prime deal with these two, officers. He'll handle them fairly."

"That slave damaged me!" Dent-Nose whined, pointing at Starscream. "I'm disfigured! I demand the right to punish him for his crime!"

"First of all," Ratchet growled, "stop bellyaching. Your self-repair can bang that out in a breem. You know a mech can't punish another Autobot's slave without permission. Isn't that right, officers?"

The security mechs looked at each other, reviewing the slave code in their processors. Then, reluctantly, the captain nodded. "That's correct, sir."

Ratchet turned to me. "And does he have your permission?"

"No," I said. "I'll deal punishment as I see fit."

Dent-Nose and his crony glowered, but there was nothing more to be done. The crowd had already begun to disperse. Even the security mechs were leaving.

Dent-Nose glared at me. "This isn't over, Decepticon," he hissed, then shoved his way through the crowd. The remark unsettled me. Protoforms had whispered "Decepticon" at me before, but it had never struck so close to home.

Starscream and I were left alone with Ratchet. The medibot crossed his arms and scowled.

"You two report to Prime and tell him what you did. If he doesn't hear it from you, he'll hear it from me. Got that?"

Starscream gave a derisive snort, but I nodded, chastened.

* * *

A lecture from Optimus was worse than the scorn of every Autobot on Cybertron. It would have been easier if he'd shouted. But he didn't raise his voice, or look angry. Instead it was the awful disappointment in his voice.

I could have given excuses to make myself look better, but I took it in silence, trying not to melt into a puddle. When he finished, I said, "I'm sorry, Optimus." And I was, straight to my Spark.

He smiled. _All is forgiven_ , that smile said. But he didn't know what I had done, what I planned to do.

Prime turned to Starscream.

"I shouldn't be surprised at you, Starscream," he said, "but I am. Nova's safety is your responsibility. You failed today."

I expected Starscream to look disdainful, or make a sarcastic comment, or something. Instead he looked away, uncharacteristically silent.

* * *

The incident with Dent-Nose wasn't the end. The skinny mech appeared everywhere I went, letting badly-concealed insults reach my audios. I ignored him until he grew tired of his game, or so I thought. I learned later that he had gone instead to bait Skywarp and Thundercracker whenever Starscream or I sent them out. I could laugh off the annoyance, Starscream could smirk and uphold his pride, Thundercracker could fume in silence, but Skywarp couldn't help his personality.

Starscream received a call on his comm from one of his wingmates; he hesitated right before attacking, allowing me to swipe his legs out from under him. Something was wrong—Starscream would never let me knock him down unless he had been distracted by something important.

"What is it?"

"Skywarp and Thundercracker. There's trouble."

We took to the air and I followed him away from Prime's tower. What we saw from above wasn't comforting: Thundercracker and Skywarp were in the middle of a brawl against three or four Autobots. I spied the now-familiar gleam of Dent-Nose's red-and-green plating, as well as the yellow of his larger crony, among them.

"Starscream, wait…!" I cautioned, but he was already diving towards his wingmates. I scanned the area for security, but we were on the outskirts of the city, away from residential areas. I dove into the fray, intent on pulling the trine out before anything irreparable could happen.

I was immediately assailed by Dent-Nose himself. He went for my optics and I jerked back, straight into the arms of another mech. Rough hands caught my wings. I kicked back, firing up my thrusters, and whoever was holding me let go with a grunt. When Dent-Nose came at me this time, I was ready to counter his weak attack. Trying to get him out of the fight without seriously harming him, I kneed him in the torso. As he toppled, I aimed a blow at the back of his neck. He went down hard.

I looked up to find that the other two Autobots had fled when Starscream and I arrived. Dent-Nose's large companion lay on the ground, optics dark. I looked back at Dent-Nose as Starscream knelt over him.

"Temporarily offlined," Starscream said. He glanced at the other downed 'bot, mouth pulling into a thin line. "Can't say as much for that one."

"What happened?" I asked Skywarp. He glared defensively.

"The Autobrat tripped me. Called me a receptor model. What was I supposed to do, stand there and take it? So I told him where he could stick it and he decked me. Not my fault this clod couldn't block."

"He's offlined, Skywarp. _Terminated_ ," Starscream said.

Skywarp's optics paled and he threw Thundercracker a glance as the sirens started. "Well… uh…" Panic bloomed slowly on his faceplates, his words coming faster and faster until they bordered on hysterical. "You know what they do to slaves who kill Autobots! It'll be the scrap heap or the smelting pools for sure! Screamer, what'll we do, what'll we—"

"Quiet," Starscream snapped. "We don't have much time before this one—" He aimed a derisive kick at Dent-Nose. "—or one of the others tells them what happened."

"I'll say I did it," I said. "Self-defense."

"No," Starscream said, overlapped by Thundercracker. The blue Seeker looked at me seriously.

"It won't make any difference," he said. "Those…" He nodded at my Autobot sigils. "…won't matter. You're one of us." He turned to Starscream. "We have to fly."

"Kaon," Starscream said. "Skywarp, Thundercracker, take the east route. I'll take Nova west. Watch for Autobots. Go."

The other two transformed and rocketed off as the sirens drew nearer. Starscream motioned to me, but for a moment I couldn't move, paralyzed by the sight of the swiftly graying shell of the dead Autobot.

"Nova. We need to leave, _now_."

I tore myself away and we flew back towards Prime's tower.

 _/Why are we going here?/_ I asked.

_/We need supplies. Wait in your quarters, I'll be back. Lock the door and open it for no one./_

He left me in my quarters and flew around the side of the tower.

Primus, what was _happening_ to me? An Autobot lay dead, and I would be fleeing my home with an escaped slave… enough for me to be made a slave myself if I was caught. And all of this would only confirm what they thought of me…

 _Optimus_. Ice crept into my Spark. What would Optimus think? Would his trust in me be shattered? I wished I could speak with him, explain what happened, pour my Spark out and show him my good intentions. I wished I could tell him goodbye, but there was no time.

Starscream landed on my balcony with two energon cubes. He shoved them at me. "Subspace those," he said. I obeyed. He ushered me to the nearest console.

"We're going to move your credits," he told me, connecting remotely.

"To where?"

"Working on that." He paused, optics brightening. "Perhaps they didn't…" He struck a few keys and another account appeared. "They didn't!"

"Whose account is that? Yours?"

He snorted. "I haven't had an account in astrocycles. They'd never think to look here… nobody remembers it exists. This is Skyfire's account."

He transferred everything in my account to the new one and covered his tracks, making it impossible for the Autobots to track or retrieve the credits. By now we could hear sirens.

"Let's go," he said.

I took a last look around. This was my home. It wrenched my Spark to leave this behind, but there was no other choice.

We left Iacon in vehicle mode, pushing our engines to the limit.

 _/We won't fly long,/_ Starscream commed. _/We can't risk flying by day. There's a hiding spot where we can wait for night./_

After a quarter of a megacycle, he dove sharply and braked above a crevasse in the ground. We both transformed.

"It takes thrusters to get in here," he said. "No groundpounder could do it."

He eased into the crevasse, steadying himself with his hands. He shuddered as his wingtips went under the surface. I grimaced in sympathy—our innate claustrophobia could make this difficult. I leaned over to watch. The bottom of the crevasse was hard to make out. The gap widened further down, leaving a portion of the lower wall invisible. Starscream steered himself into the wider area, then gestured for me to follow him.

I squeezed my way down. My wings scraped against the walls in an unsteady wobble; my Spark pulsed uncomfortably as the sky narrowed into a strip.

"This way." Starscream's voice bounced off the walls. From here, I could see a cave in the side of the crevasse, hidden by the ledge above us.

Once we landed, I asked, "How did anyone find this place?"

"You'd be surprised how creative desperate mechs can be," Starscream said. "Recharge. I'll keep watch and rouse you at moonsrise. We'll share a cube then…"

"You need a full cube," I said. "I can wait."

"We have to conserve," he said. "We've only got four between us."

"You need it more than I," I said. He opened his mouth to protest, but I interrupted. "Let go of your slagging pride for a few orns. Look at it this way: I need you online to get us out of this. You're going to drink a whole cube, and I'll take a half. I can manage."

He sighed. "Fine. Recharge now."

* * *

Recharge was limited without a proper berth. The cramped cave unsettled me. I awoke every few breems to see Starscream perched near the cave's entrance with his back to me, a silent guardian.

When Starscream woke me, it was dark. Besides a glimmer of moonslight splashed onto the crevasse wall, the only illumination was the red glow of our optics. He offered me a cube. I drank half and watched to make sure that he drank all of another.

"We're still in Iacon territory," he said. "There's been activity aboveground, so we'll need to be quiet."

"We can't fly?"

"Not yet. We'll aim to reach Simfur on our pedes tonight… there's a dry energon mine there that we can hide in. From there we should be able to fly. _Should_. The wind there is murder."

"We can't just… fly up into space and get there that way?"

He gave me a look. It was one of his "I've got _morons_ on my team" looks. "The Autobots _thought_ of that. They've got a blockade on the planet so tight that every bit of space debris is marked and labeled."

He led the way out of the crevasse, scanning the area for Autobots before allowing me to come out into the open. In the moonslight we blended into the landscape, but Autobots might detect us on thermal.

Starscream and I were unused to walking long distances. After a while, walking was not only awkward but painful on our thrusters. Every so often we saw an Autobot patrol and moved out of sight.

We stumbled on for megacycles that felt like orns. The moons crawled across the sky, tracing a path through the glimmering stars.

Finally, Starscream pointed ahead towards a dark shaft. "There."

I shuddered… underground again.

We would have to remain in the mine for the day, too long for comfort. All that metal above us, rather than open sky, made my cooling fans kick on within a breem. I pulled my shaky limbs in on myself, hunching over where I sat and massaging my aching turbines.

Starscream's voice echoed oddly around the tunnel in which we sat. "I knew a Seeker who the Autobots put to work in a mine like this. After an orbit, he went berserk and killed two of the guards, then himself."

"Thank you for that comforting story," I said dryly.

"You're welcome. During the War, the Autobots… at least, ones like Prime, who actually cared about their captives… had to think of creative ways to hold Seeker prisoners." He pulled out the half-empty cube of energon and tossed it to me. "Refuel, then recharge. We have a difficult flight ahead of us."

"It's my turn to watch," I said. "You need this more than I do."

"I'm not having this argument every time we stop," Starscream growled. "I've already taken more than my share."

I unsubspaced one of my full cubes and threw it at his head. He caught it, scowled, and made as though to throw it back.

"I know how slave rations are," I said quietly. "You need this."

He made no reply, but tossed the cube back to me anyway. I set it between us, then drank my fuel in silence. When I looked at him he'd turned away, facing the shaft.

"If you need this," I said, just loudly enough for him to hear, "it's here."

* * *

It was no easier to recharge in the mine than it had been in the crevasse. At some point I activated my optics and saw that the energon cube was only half-full. I curled my mouthplates into a smile and drifted for some time.

A touch on my helm roused me from near-recharge to see Starscream settling down beside me.

"Come here," he directed, and after a moment of hesitation, I moved closer. The only way to comfortably fit both of us was to curl up awkwardly together. At least it was better than the unyielding rock.

I felt something strange when I was pressed against him. It was a feeling of _rightness_ , of _belonging_. I could feel the warmth of his Spark on my chest. I felt safer and more peaceful than I had in vorns. I tilted my head just enough to see Starscream's face; his optics were shuttered, and for once there wasn't a frown or a sneer pulling at his mouthplates. He looked content.

* * *

"Unless something happens," Starscream told me when night came at last, "we can make it to Polyhex tonight."

"Only Polyhex?"

"We'll be flying against the wind," he said. "It'll burn fuel, and after that walk last night, it's going to hurt. I don't want a breakdown. There's an outcropping in Polyhex that's only accessible from the air. After that, we stop at Khalkon, a Neutral settlement in Tarn. Kaon is heavily guarded… it will be difficult to get word in and organize our entry."

It felt wonderful to stretch my wings and let the wind calm my nerves. It was a refreshing change from crawling along the ground or huddling in a cave. But my turbines screamed in agony from the abuse they'd suffered the night before, and the headwind was strong.

 _/If you feel like you need to refuel, don't wait,/_ Starscream told me. His comm signal was patchy with exhaustion. _/This mess will blow you clear to Tyger Pax if you don't have energy to fight it./_

My energon level dropped at an alarming rate as we struggled against the wind. I was beginning to worry that I wouldn't make it—more, that Starscream wouldn't make it—when he finally angled down towards an outcropping. I didn't see the cave until we were practically on top of it. This one was bigger on the inside. I staggered to the back and sank gratefully to the ground.

Exhausted from the night's flight, I didn't notice what Starscream was doing for some time. He had pried his holomatter projector from his circuitry and set up a projection of a rock face over the mouth of the cave. He had cannibalized more of his nonessentials to fuel the projector and was in the process of patching himself up.

"I could have helped with that," I said reproachfully. He shook his head.

"I'm used to this," he said. "I've had plenty of experience running on empty. You can't handle it."

Determined to prove him wrong, I stood up. For a moment I felt fine, but then a wave of dizziness struck me and I swayed dangerously. Before I hit the ground, Starscream was there to catch me, supporting me as he had when I was still learning to fly. My helm clacked quietly against his shoulder plating as I leaned on him. I could feel the warmth of his Spark on my chest again. My own Spark shifted towards it, but it was a longing to be closer, not the insatiable hunger for a merge. It was as though my Spark recognized his…

Starscream propped me against the wall and drew away, breaking the almost-contact, and as he straightened I thought I saw something in his face, a sort of tenderness or affection. It was gone in instant as he turned towards the cave's entrance. But I'd seen it before, all those times when I caught him looking at me in a way that was more than a slave at a master or a teacher at a student. I'd felt that pull on my Spark, the recognition, the orn before. And it made sense… because I'd finally realized what I should have vorns ago, it _made sense_.

"Starscream…"

"I'll keep watch," he said. "Try to recharge."

My voice sounded loud in the enclosed space.

"Starscream… you're my creator, aren't you?"

* * *

There was a moment of complete silence. Starscream turned half-around, fixing me with a penetrating stare. Finally he cycled an intake.

"Yes," he said. "I am."

Starscream was my creator. I was the sparkling of a Decepticon. It explained my red optics, my Seeker frame. While I had once hated the Decepticons with all of my Spark, I had always been one of them.

It didn't matter now. I was surprised, but not disgusted or horrified. I had already decided that I was a Decepticon. I was proud of it.

A thought occurred to me and the irony made me smile: I _was_ Sparked that way.

I leaned my head against the wall. "Tell me more."

"What more do you need to know?"

"Why was I raised by Optimus? Why didn't you just tell me?"

He laughed harshly. "Would you have believed me?"

"I might have."

He settled down across from me. "You know there aren't any Seeker femmes. The frame type is impractical for flight. Instead, a Seeker can carry a second Spark in his chamber for a time—a sparkling who needs a protoform to survive.

"You were already… there before Axis. Nobody knew, not even my wingmates. I didn't want anyone to find out, especially after Axis, but you had to come out sometime.

"Ratchet and Prime were the only ones who knew about you: Ratchet performed your transfer into a protoform. And Prime, emotional fool, felt that you deserved a chance to grow up free, so he took you as his ward." For a moment, I thought he was going to say something else, but finally he shook his head. "That's all."

"Who is my other creator?" I asked.

He considered for an entire cycle, his optics on me but looking through me, seeing another mech, another time. Then his face hardened.

"You're better off not knowing," he said. "Not yet."

"Not _yet_?" I repeated, incredulous. "Is it _always_ not yet? Is it so horrible, or am I so weak and delicate that I can't bear it?! Or do you just delight in drawing things out? Are you going to give me little bits and pieces of the truth, one at a time?"

"If I had my way, you'd never have known," he snapped in reply.

"Why not?!"

"Because I never—!" He broke off, but the force of the unsaid words struck right to my Spark.

"Because you never _wanted_ me? Is that it? So you decided to offload me on Prime, so you didn't have anything to do with me?!"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what _did_ you mean, Starscream?"

"It's—" He stopped abruptly, vents whirring, and looked away as he fumed. "Complicated." But the tension in his frame, the trembling of his wings; this emotion, hiding under the anger, I recognized.

Starscream was ashamed.

Hesitantly, I ventured, "I'm sorry."

Starscream didn't answer.

"I'm sure you had your reasons," I said. I even managed to keep most of the bitterness out of my voice. "I won't force you to tell me."

After a moment, he tilted his head. "Drink your energon. We need recharge. Tomorrow night, we arrive in Khalkon."

I offered a cube to my creator… my _creator_. He accepted the full cube without complaint, and I drank our last half. When I had finished, I twitched my wings, looking up at the Autobot symbols painted there. It felt like an itch in my wiring. It was wrong. I was Decepticon-Sparked, and I had chosen the Decepticon way.

Bracing myself, I reached up and scraped my sharp fingers across the sigil, scratching until bits of red paint peeled off to leave only raw silver plating.

"What are you _doing_?"

I swiveled to show Starscream the bare spot. "I'm going to need your help with the backs."

"It doesn't have to hurt," he said. "We can get solvent in the settlement, or paint over them."

"I want them off now," I said. "I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea about me. And it should hurt. I'm… just… help me get rid of them."

It ought to hurt. I was stripping off my former self. I was leaving the Autobots behind forever.

My wings shook by the time we were done.


	10. Apis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I knew of Neutrals was that they bore no insignias and were poor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovely lovely twinbuddy thedaringplatypus has a huge investment in Rise and has penned some extras on her own. This chapter is the first of several collaborations scattered here and there in the story. Half of this chapter was written in third-person by her and then edited in by me.

The night's journey wasn't far, but the headwind remained strong. My thrusters ached, but I kept silent. Starscream probably hurt as much as I did.

This resolution became hard to keep when my thrusters stuttered and the wind blew me back several astrometers.

/ _Starscream!_ /

 _/Land,/_ he said, and we both transformed as we touched down. "Sit," he ordered. With the weight off of my landing struts, they felt slightly better. Starscream tugged my pedes into his lap, poking his fingers into my turbines.

"Hey, what—"

"Hold still and let me work. I don't have to be nice about this."

I tried not to squirm. My thrusters were sensitive.

"It's torn up," he said. "Those rocks, and then the wind… you can't fly on these."

"I have to," I argued. "We have to move on. I can make it."

"The more you try to use them, the worse it'll get," Starscream said. "They'll burn out."

"I said I can make it!" I snapped, pulling away. I was a Decepticon, not some pitiful softshell who couldn't bear some discomfort, and I wouldn't slow us down.

We continued southeast, slower than before, but my shredded turbines didn't stall again.

I'd never met a Neutral, but I'd seen them from time to time in Iacon. Prime had Neutral friends, mechs who had once been Autobots but had opted for neutrality instead.

Neutrals had faced suspicion in the wake of Axis. They hadn't declared allegiance to the Autobots, but neither had they openly opposed them. All I knew of Neutrals was that they bore no insignias and were poor. They lived in badly-constructed towns far from the Autobot city hubs.

We were definitely far from Autobot civilization now. The closest major city-state was Praxus, then Altihex. The four city-states closest to the south pole—Kaon, Tarn, Trypticon, and Vos—had been solidly Decepticon throughout the War, at the core of the Decepticon movement, and were still mostly deserted save for Neutrals seeking escape from Autobot prejudice.

It was nearly morning by the time we began our descent. Khalkon was much smaller than any city I'd seen, though it was more than the collection of ramshackle huts I'd been expecting. There was a conspicuous lack of towers and the streets were narrow. Everything looked dull and worn.

As we transformed and came in to land, the backdraft from our thrusters threw up a thick cloud of swirling dust. I cleared my vents sharply and heard Starscream coughing beside me.

"What is all this?" I asked.

"This is why I hate Tarn," he said, still coughing.

The dust settled into the gaps in my armor and irritated my circuitry. As the cloud dispersed, I saw that the town was every bit as bleak as it had appeared from above. Some early risers watched us, grim and suspicious. I was surprised to see a variety of makes and models from different regions. What amazed me the most was the rainbow of colors glowing in their optics. Though I had seen optics of unusual colors before, the overwhelming majority of mechs in Iacon had blue optics. It was the easiest way to immediately identify a bot's faction: blue for Autobots, red for Decepticons. It made sense that mechs who identified with neither faction would choose optics of neither color.

We'd landed on one of the main streets, and though it was still early, mechs were preparing for the orn ahead, blowing dust off stalls, opening shop doors, and activating signs. Others drifted towards us, their pedes raising little puffs of dust.

 _/What now?/_ I asked over comm.

 _/Leave the talking to me,/_ Starscream said. _/Trust me./_

That could be a challenge after learning that he'd _lied_ to me for all these vorns.

"Hey there," one of the Neutrals said, politely enough. He had the trace of an unfamiliar accent. "Headin' south?"

"That's right," Starscream said. Understanding passed swiftly across the Neutrals' faces. "Been a while since we had a decent recharge. Any accommodations for the two of us?"

The first mech glanced at his neighbor, a sturdy blue-and-red groundpounder with blue optics. When he spoke, it was in a thick drawl that reminded me of Ironhide.

"I kin 'commidate you," he told us, sticking out a hand to shake. "Designation's Sidewall. I got room as long as you need. I'll give you whatever energon I've got t'spare. Young mech like him—" He nodded at me. "—can't live long runnin' on empty. I got a place fer you both upstairs. Real private-like. Ain't no one'll bother you there."

Before he could say more, a skinny protoform came running down the street, dust billowing up behind him. "Sidewall! Autobot patrol comin' in frem th' narth!"

Sidewall moved quickly towards an open door. "Hide there," he urged, gesturing into the darkness. "I'll run 'em off."

Starscream pushed me into the cool dark space and squeezed in behind me, and Sidewall shut the door. Little gaps in the door and walls let in shafts of light. Adjusting my optics to the darkness, I saw a cramped storage area. My wings twitched.

 _/If we're found, don't think twice,/_ Starscream commed. _/Take off and fly south as fast as you can. Don't stop, don't look back, just get to Kaon./_

_/What about you?/_

_/What matters is that you get to Kaon, understand?/_

I heard the sound of motors. Peeking through one of the gaps, I saw the grim, dusty crowd of Neutrals facing down a full Autobot security patrol. The head of the patrol stepped forward, holding out a datapad.

"We're looking for these mechs," he said, casting a disdainful optic over the Neutrals.

Sidewall barely spared the datapad a glance before offering it back. "Never seen 'em."

The Autobot ignored him. He spoke slowly, as though he were talking to a sparkling. "There's a reward. A big pile of credits if they're turned in."

"I said we ain't seen 'em," Sidewall said, shoving the datapad towards him again. "Go look someplace else."

"They're murderers," the captain said, annoyed now. "Kidnappers. Escaped slaves. The kind of mech you don't want in your little… town."

"We ain't got no slaves here," Sidewall asserted.

"We have a Senate directive," the captain said. "We're going to search this entire settlement."

"Well, you ken take yer fancy directive an' shove it up your tailpipe, cause you ain't searchin' nothin,'" the larger mech replied, taking a step forward, followed by the rest. The Autobots looked intimidated. The captain cleared his intakes.

"You can't stop us," he said. "It's the law."

"You don't see us pokin' our olfact'ry sensors in your cities, do ya?" Sidewall asked. "You got no right to come bargin' in here like you own th' place. Now get out afore we throw you out."

"The Senate—"

"Now!"

It was amusing to watch the Autobots scrambling backwards. The captain was the last to transform. "I ought to arrest every last one of you!" he shouted.

"Ah'd like ta see ya try!" the skinny protoform yelled back, and the Autobots vanished, kicking up dust behind them. The Neutrals laughed, dispersing to their own business, and Sidewall came over to let us out. He handed over the datapad the captain had left. Starscream read it and snorted, passing it over. The faces shown were Starscream's, Skywarp's, Thundercracker's, and mine.

"Y'ain't really murderers."

Starscream shook his head. "Self-defense."

"And they didn't kidnap me," I added.

"I believe you," Sidewall said. "These days, give a mech a red insignia an' he thinks he's all high an' mighty. One time th' name of Autobot was somethin' to be proud of. Now it ain't worth slag. Ain't sayin' there ain't good Autobots. Ain't saying there ain't bad Decepticons. Just it don't mean nothin'. I warn't always Neutral… was an Autobot, once. I was jes tar'd of it all, slaves an' masters an' sich. Prime, he's th' only real Autobot left, if y'ask me."

* * *

The room tucked away above Sidewall's home wasn't large, but we fit comfortably. I fell straight onto one of the two berths.

"We both need repairs," Starscream said. "Is there someplace where we can buy parts?"

"You want Steelcrusher's place," Sidewall answered immediately. "Jes about anythin' you need, he's got. Mos' secondhand, but they repair it an' make it nice. 'Crusher's a nice fella. Good mech. Tha's the place you want. 'Ere, these're fer you."

He left a moment later. Something plunked off of the back of my helm. I turned my head to see two energon cubes lying beside me. Starscream sat on the other berth, two more cubes in his hands.

"Drink," he said. "We'll buy more later. And we could both use a decent recharge." He glanced out of the dusty window. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to stay in stasis until tomorrow. Then we can find this shop he mentioned and I'll repair our thrusters." He turned a critical optic on his wings. "And paint."

If he said anything further, I didn't hear, for I'd already fallen into recharge.

* * *

"You're sure this is it?" I asked Starscream. He cuffed my arm.

"Of course I'm sure!" he snapped back, but I suspected that he was just as lost. He pushed past me and into the shop.

"Someone'll be wit' you in a klik," a huge, hulking tank-model told us, optics burning orange in a plum face. This must be Steelcrusher; his size certainly suited the designation. He went back to haggling over what looked to me like useless bits of scrap.

I examined the items on the walls. Most appeared used, but they had been cleaned and repaired into some semblance of working condition.

"Hello!" a cheerful voice called out. A small orange mech skidded to a stop before us. "I'm sorry, I was, ah, working… in the… back…" He trailed off, gaping upwards once he'd gotten a better look at us. The appendages on his helm (handles, since he appeared to be some sort of motorcycle) perked up, then flared back down as he caught himself staring. "Sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "I've never seen Seekers this close before."

He started chatting away at Starscream, asking what we needed and suggesting different bits of merchandise. I tilted my head to the side. I'd never seen a mech of this model: tiny waist, curvy figure, wide-open face and orange optics. A large upper chassis wasn't unusual in Earth models, like Ironhide and Ratchet, but the orange mech didn't have the same bulky build and thick waist to support the heavy upper torso. His legs were curvy, too. And long.

When the little mech caught me staring, his optics lightened to embarrassed gold.

"Well, I, ah, um…" The mech trailed off, derailed by my staring. I wasn't being _that_ rude. The cycle-bot fidgeted worse than ever, poking his index fingers together and looking everywhere _but_ at me.

"Um, if it's heel-thruster parts you're looking for, I'm afraid we don't have a very updated selection. We don't, ah, get a lot of Seekers around here." He gave an embarrassed laugh and rubbed the back of his neck again.

"Well, then, what _do_ you have?" Starscream asked, just shy enough of condescending that I could at least pretend he was being polite. The handlebars flicked sideways and a scowl flashed across the Neutral's faceplates, but the perfect host was back before I could be sure.

The orange mech described the parts they carried as I examined his face. The curve of his cheeks and the wide set of his optics was a popular look in Altihex, one of the wealthier city-states. Whoever this mech was, he hadn't been Sparked here in this dusty Neutral town.

But my musings were thrown off as the handles at the base of his head, right near where his crested helm met his neck, started twitching again. Back and forth, up and down, side to side and they should _not_ be this fascinating and Starscream was snickering at me.

I glared at Starscream, who continued to smirk. The mech pulled on one of his handlebars, peeking up at us from beneath the protruding edge of his helmet.

"I'm sorry," I said, shooting Starscream a dirty glare. "You were saying?"

He perked up. And then-

"APIS!" a voice screeched from the register. The orange mech flinched, handlebars flattening back to his neck.

"Yes, Andromeda?" he asked, resigned to the worst. The mech scowling from behind the counter crooked one clawed finger menacingly. The little orange mech gave us a rather forced smile.

"One moment, please?" he asked, voice trembling with barely-restrained annoyance.

While the cyclebot crossed the shop to where the other two-wheeler waited, I glared at Starscream. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Starscream replied innocently. It wasn't convincing.

"Must you find everything I do amusing?" I snapped.

"When you make it so _easy…_ "

"Aft," I muttered, looking for the cyclebot. He was arguing with the other one, though the green mech did most of the talking. Apis's shoulders were hunched nearly to his audios. I had no idea what they were fighting about until Apis's co-worker ran his optics up and down my frame with a hungry look that made me more than slightly uncomfortable. I turned up my audios and pretended to look at one of the turbines Apis had left.

" _Seekers, Apis._ Seekers _. Why didn't you tell Steelcrusher to give them to me? You probably almost scared them away with that_ paintjob _of yours._ "

Apis hiked his shoulders up even higher. " _Slag off,_ Andy _._ "

The green mech stiffened and squawked, " _What did you call me, you little droid?_ "

Apis ducked a swipe. " _If you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to my customers. Unless, of course, you'd like to tell 'Crusher that we lost the sale because you were jealous._ "

"You little toad!" the second cyclebot roared loudly enough for the entire shop to hear. Apis danced back over.

"Sorry about the wait!" he chirped, optics glowing and handlebars atwitch from his victory, not quite able to wipe the grin from his face. "So how about those thrusters?"

We ended up buying the thrusters, the turbines, and several cases of paint. Apis was haggling with Starscream over the price when the tank-form stuck his head in from the back room and told Apis to come help. Apis flashed us an apologetic smile, thanked us for our business, and left with one last covert glance.

Starscream's wings were twitching—he had something to say and wanted to say it _now_. The green mech slunk up to the counter and draped himself across it.

"Can I... _help_ you?" he purred, sweeping his optics up and down. I tried to catch a glimpse of Apis in the back room. I was half-listening to Starscream's continued haggling with the new employee, but the cyclebot's transparent flirting was _painful_.

Apis didn't come back before we finished (Andromeda, as the green cyclebot had introduced himself, was too busy flirting with Starscream to haggle well, something Starscream took full advantage of). I didn't know why I was disappointed.

"Apis," I mused to myself as Starscream and I walked back to our temporary quarters, laden down with the parts we'd bought. "That's an odd designation."

The other Seeker nodded. "It's a constellation in the Milky Way galaxy."

I frowned. "What I didn't get was his frame." I didn't see so much as feel Starscream stop walking. "I've seen cyclebots before, but I've never seen a mech with that odd a build."

Starscream snorted in amusement and I finally turned to glare at him.

"What _now_?" I demanded.

"Mech?" Starscream managed. His voice rose in pitch throughout his disbelieving question. I narrowed my optics. "You thought... you thought that little femme was a _mech_?"

* * *

"Oh, hello again!"

Apis's cheery voice greeted me as I walked back into the shop. I thought that Starscream had sent me back here just to make me suffer, but some masochistic part of me had wanted to see Apis again (even though the rest of me wanted to curl up under a rock and deactivate).

I managed a smile, unable to meet his—no, _her_ optics. "Hello," I told her pedes.

"Was there a problem with the parts?" she asked. How had I thought that someone with that voice and face and body, even if most of it _was_ covered with grease and oil, was a mech? In my defense, femmes were scarce in Iacon, and Apis didn't look much like the ones I'd seen there.

"No!" I said quickly. "Not at all! It's just..." I tried to remember what I was here for. My processor seemed to be functioning below capacity. Paint! That was it, our paint. I held up one of the canisters we'd bought earlier this orn. "We got the wrong paint."

Apis grinned. "Well, that's easy enough. Just wait a klik and I'll tell 'Crusher he needs someone else to tinker with the train." She bounded to the side door and stuck her head outside to where a train car lay belly-up. "'CRUSHER!" she shouted—how could such a tiny femme make so much noise?—"I'M TAKING A CUSTOMER. GIT SOME'UN ELSE T'LOOKIT CYBERBLAST'S CART!"

"FINE!" a voice bellowed back. "FRITZ KIN FOOL WIT IT TIL YER DONE!"

"THANKS, 'CRUSHER!" Apis's handlebars flicked as she trotted over and snagged the paint canister from my hands. "What's the paint for?" she asked, leading the way to the corner stacked with more canisters.

I scanned the color chart for the shade that Starscream had specified. "We both suffered damage getting out here and Starscream's so vain that he refuses to wait any longer for his touchup."

Apis giggled and put the erroneous canister back. She pulled out a few shades of blue. "Most Decepticons we get through here are like that. They're so shabby and rundown that they hardly recognize themselves anymore."

Apis strained to reach a blue that was just out of reach. "Needless to say, most of them are escaped slaves, but... oof, slaggit, come _here_ , you little glitch..." She went up on the tips of her pedes to reach for the can. "Most Autobots who come here nowadays are the ones who can see that this slavery thing is wrong and, oh!" She overbalanced and knocked over the canister she'd been reaching for. It dented off her shoulder and sprayed sky blue across her orange. I moved quickly, catching her before she fell and grabbing the bleeding can in my other hand before it could do too much damage.

I pulled Apis up and only then realized that I was still holding her around the waist. I let go quickly and offered her the canister.

"Thank you," she said. My faceplates heated up and I mumbled that it had been nothing. "I didn't really get a chance to properly introduce myself earlier, so..." She stuck out one blue-covered hand. "I'm Apis. It's nice to meet you." She looked at her hand and made an embarrassed sound, handlebars tucking in towards her neck. "Sorry." She began to pull her hand back, but I moved forward and clasped it, ignoring the paint.

"I'm Nova," I said. "And it's very nice to meet you, Apis."

I didn't let go of her hand right away; from the look on her face, I had a feeling she didn't mind.

* * *

Starscream was a nosy, interfering slagger.

I sulked in the background while Starscream amused himself by asking Apis about random insignificant details like the ingredients and proper application of the paint—all things he _knew already_ , slaggit...

For a bot who lived out in the middle of nowhere, Apis had a refreshing view on things. Her explanation of the Neutrals was optic-widening, but part of the reason I'd been so enthralled was the sound of her voice and the way her optics lit up and her handlebars wiggled when she was passionate about the topic.

And then Starscream had decided to show up and be an aft. I'd grumbled about it several times, loudly, just to be sure that he heard.

I continued to scowl as Starscream made the purchase (with _my_ credits) and ushered me out of the store. I looked over my shoulder to say goodbye, to say _something_ , but unable to because of the smirking Seeker pushing me out with a firm hand on my shoulder. Apis stared mournfully after us.

As soon as we were clear of the shop and immersed in the crowd again, I shook off Starscream's hand with a snarl and punched him in the torso, leaving a streak of sky blue paint.

"What was _that_?" I snarled.

"What was what?" he asked innocently. "You were taking too long and I've already gone an ungodly amount of time in this condition."

"We already _have_ all the paint we need! You sent me back for no reason and then barged in to buy paint we already have?"

Starscream snuck me a sly grin. "I don't see why you're complaining. After all, you got to talk to that pretty little _mech_."

I contemplated punching him again. In the face. "Oh, shut _up_ about that." Starscream snickered. I might have left him behind and just lifted off, regardless of "conserving fuel" or "damaged turbines," when a familiar voice called out my designation.

"Nova! Nova, hey!"

I turned and saw the blue-stained figure wiggling her way through the tight press of the crowd. Starscream's snickering alerted me that I was grinning embarrassingly. I kicked him in the shin to shut him up.

"Hey, Apis!" I said, flinching slightly at the way my vocalizer cracked. Starscream's snickers grew louder.

She beamed at me and bounced on her pedes, rocking up to press her mouthplates against my cheek. Dumbfounded, I stared down at her, one hand pressed to the spot she'd kissed. She laughed.

"You're cute. If you're sticking around for a while, don't feel shy to stop by the shop again, okay?"

And she turned and shot off the way she'd come, transforming midstride to cut through the crowd in motorcycle form.

Though Starscream was smirking somewhere off to my left, I couldn't help but stare dazedly after the little cycle-femme.

"She said I'm cute," I murmured belatedly to myself. Starscream preened as if _he_ had received the compliment.

"But of course," he said, already turning and walking away. "You take after me."


	11. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You realize we can't stay here forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, the scenes with Apis are a collaboration between myself and thedaringplatypus.

It was a relief to have my thrusters repaired at last. Starscream went about his work with the ease of long practice.

"I've had experience," he said. "Skyfire and I went over all sorts of terrain, so both of us had to be accomplished in field repair."

Starscream had just volunteered more of his past than I had ever been able to coax from him. But he fell silent, lost in thought, and I resigned myself to curiosity.

Then, to my surprise, he spoke again. "The Academy hasn't changed much."

"You attended?"

"Long ago." He snapped something into place inside the thruster he was working on and my pede jerked in reaction. "We were scientists. Skyfire was my partner. And friend."

"What did you study?"

"We were xenobiologists—explorers. We studied other planets and alien species. That was more to get away from Cybertron and the Academy than anything. None of them liked me very much."

"Why not?"

"Jealousy. They said Seekers just aren't programmed for academics." He sneered at some imagined Autobot. "Just because I could do what they never…"

"I know how it feels," I said, remembering the scorn of my classmates and teachers. He looked up at me and for a moment there was a connection between us, something that bridged the astrocycles that separated us.

"Anytime we were on Cybertron, it was almost too much to stand," he went on. "The warning signs were there… energon shortages, class conflict. We spent as much time off-planet as we could."

He stopped, mouth pulling tight. I prompted him. "What happened?"

"An accident," he said, his voice flat and dead. "What we did was dangerous. We both knew that. Skyfire never took risks, always calculated everything, did his best to make sure that both of us came back alive. But I was sure that after so long, we'd be fine…" He shook his head. "If I hadn't been so impatient, we could have waited.

"There was an organic planet, far from Cybertron, that we wanted to investigate. We should have observed the atmospheric currents, but I convinced Skyfire to forget about the calculations and we tried to go to the surface. We hit a storm over the northern polar region. I managed to escape, but I lost track of Skyfire. I searched as long as I could, but…" He shook his head again. "That was the last I saw of him."

He stared resolutely at his repair work, optics burning. I saw the lie, but let it pass.

"When I came back alone, they all said I'd murdered him. They didn't even send a search party. You're done," he said abruptly, sweeping away his supplies. Just when I'd been hanging on his every word, he'd stopped. Typical. "How does it feel?"

I activated my thrusters at a low setting. "Feels good."

"Then help me with the paint. I'm sick of being invisible."

The cool paint soothed my stinging wings where my Autobot symbols had been scraped away, soft gray first and a brilliant red stripe after. Starscream painted the purple Decepticon insignia on each wing, front and back.

"When we get to Kaon, I'll do this properly," Starscream said. I looked more closely at his wings and saw the insignia scarred into the metal, though the color was faded. Those who had fought in the War had their sigils branded permanently into their armor. It showed their dedication and strength, their devotion to the cause.

Then it was Starscream's turn. He was incredibly finicky, but the result was worth it. He was brilliant to look at, flashy in red and white. I'd painstakingly recreated his Decepticon insignias.

While Starscream preened, I drifted to the window, watching mechs go about their business in the street below.

A snicker from Starscream made me glance suspiciously back at him. "What?"

"You won't see her out here," he said. "The shop's too far off."

"Who said I was looking for Apis?" I sputtered. He raised an optic ridge.

"Please," he scoffed. "Your processor's in the clouds. There'll be no living with you like this. Go on, get out of here."

I went straight for the door.

"Oh, and Nova?"

I came up short at Starscream's call, swiveling to glare at him. He smirked.

"Be sure to use your firewall."

I slammed my fist into the control panel to slam the door behind me, wishing it was Starscream's face.

* * *

I looked around the little shop, but besides a customer browsing through the shelves, there was nobody there. In the quiet, I heard a familiar voice coming in through the back and drifted closer to the storeroom door.

"Nova…" I jumped, but realized that she wasn't speaking to me. "Do you think he's a Decepticon? He's got a Seeker build, but no faction symbol."

"'Is friend 'ad th'marks. 'Cons travel together."

"But he—Nova, I mean—he had some scoring on his wings. Like he had insignias before, but scraped them off. He could be one of us."

Before I could hear more, a visored mech appeared through a second door. "Can I help you?" he asked. I asked for Apis and he ducked through the back door. I was inspecting the tower of paint cans when there was a sudden thump and an "Oomph!" as the air rushed out of someone's vents.

I turned to see Apis pulling herself up from where she'd been thrown face-first onto the floor, rubbing her abdominal plating and glaring back through the door. She looked up, saw me staring, and her optics blushed gold.

"I, um, ah, Nova! Umm… hi?" she said, getting to her pedes and brushing futilely at the dust on her chassis.

"Hi," I said. She fidgeted nervously. More snickering from the back room.

Apis's shoulders rose clear to her audios and her handlebars flared out, and…

…and I must have missed something while staring at those furiously twitching handlebars because now the little visored mech from before was back and smirking at Apis. The femme was shouting at him, but her words slipped right through my processor because I was focused completely on the movement of her handlebars.

"…needed, Nova?"

I jolted. "What?"

Apis clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels. "I said, did you remember something else you needed?"

I stared at her for a moment, then remembered that I had no reason for being here yet again. "I… ah…" I floundered, searching for anything to justify my presence and coming up short. "Um… actually… I was wondering… if you wanted to go somewhere?"

"Go… somewhere?" she echoed. "As in… like… a date?"

I nodded. A grin broke out over her face. "I'd love to!" she chirped. Then her face fell. "But… I can't. Not right now, anyway. I'm on shift." She threw a glance over her shoulder at the door. "Maybe… right when I get off?"

I nodded again. Then, in a sudden fit of boldness, I leaned down and mimicked what she'd done to me the last time we'd met, pressing my mouthplates to her cheek. Then, burning with heat, I pulled back, smiled, and left.

And then promptly had to go back in and ask what time she got off shift.

Apis, standing where I'd left her with one hand pressed to her cheek, recited the time in a dazed voice, and I repeated it back to her before fleeing to prevent anything else that might make her reconsider.

* * *

Several cycles before the appointed time, I stood outside the shop waiting for Apis. _It's okay. We'll just go out for some energon, nowhere fancy, just one of those small, quiet shops that's still classy and carries good stuff and—_

Slaggit. I'd been planning to take her to places I'd known in _Iacon_. I knew _nothing_ about Khalkon or what was considered good here, or what parts of the city were considered safe, or—

A giant hand clapped down on my wing and I yanked out of my panicked musing with a startled yelp and an attempt to fire up my thrusters, but the hand prevented me from flying off.

"Woah there, calm down a klik."

I looked up into the orange optics of the tank who ran the shop.

"S-Sorry." Primus, I hadn't realized how _big_ this mech was when I'd seen him before. Not to mention that dangerous-looking hand was _on my wing_...! I twitched. The monster mech got the message and moved his hand to my shoulder instead.

"'s all right. Now, yer th' mech takin' our Apis out t'night?" There was a gleam in his optics that I wasn't entirely comfortable with—at once joking, and promising bodily harm.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"An' you are…?"

"Nova. Sir." I didn't know why I was calling him "sir." Maybe so that he wouldn't get it into his processor to squash me like an organic.

"Nova. Where're ya takin' Apis then, Nova?"

"I… ah… I'm… not sure. I forgot—"

The tank grinned so widely that it was visible from beneath his clunky jaw guard. "Y' fergot this ain't where y'came from, izzat right?"

I nodded. The tank roared with laughter and clapped me on the back hard enough to almost send me sprawling. His hands curled around my shoulders and stood me upright again, but didn't let go once I'd regained my balance. The mech loomed into my space, not remotely laughing now.

"Any funny bisniss, any wrong moves 'r unwanted advances n'I'll rip out yer Spark," he growled. "Apis's like my creation, an' if'n you hurt 'er I'll kill you. Unnerstand?"

I nodded frantically. The tank pulled back to a safer distance. He grinned sunnily, as though he'd never threatened me.

"Try U-Turn's place up'n the fifth sector. 'S nice n'respectable n'affordable." He gave me one more thunderous clap on the shoulder and walked back to the shop. "Nice meetin' ya, Nova."

Apis, on her way out, looked quizzically at the two of us, but the tank just smiled down at her and (much more gently) patted her shoulder. "'ave fun, sweetspark," he told her, before turning to glare coldly at me over his shoulder in silent reminder.

Then, thankfully, the mech went inside for good.

As I stared after the giant squeezing into the shop, Apis gently touched my arm.

"You okay, Nova? 'Crusher didn't scare you too bad, did he?"

I allowed her to lead me away from the shop. "Crusher?" It certainly fit.

"Yup! Steelcrusher's been like a creator to me since I came here." Apis beamed at me as we walked side by side through the crowd. "He's protective, but once he gets to know you he'll be fine."

I was unconvinced. Apis laughed at the way my face scrunched up and we slipped into easy conversation as I followed Steelcrusher's directions.

It was odd to walk through the crowd with her, obvious to anyone that I was _with_ her, and not receive any filthy looks. Back in Iacon I couldn't walk down a street without being glared at and whispered about. It was nice to not subject Apis to that. It was also a novel experience to feel my wings getting curious and appreciative stares. For the first time in my life, I flexed my wings wider and stood a little bit taller, basking in the optics of the crowd.

I'd half-expected Steelcrusher to lead me to some hole-in-the-wall dump that would guarantee this… _date_ to end in humiliation. But it was a nice place, surprisingly clean.

By the time we'd ordered our energon, the conversation had taken its inevitable turn towards our backgrounds.

"So how'd you make it to Khalkon?" Apis realized what she'd asked the klik after she said it and shut her mouth, her handlebars twitching. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry, I was just…"

"From the northwest," I said, once I could draw my optics away from those distracting handlebars. "We came in through Polyhex." It would be nearly impossible to trace us back to Iacon from that information, though my accent and make could be a dead giveaway. I was quick to change the subject. "How about you?"

Apis looked down into her energon cube. "I'm from Altihex," she said, confirming my initial observation. "But I've lived here with Steelcrusher a long time."

"He's not your creator, then?"

Apis shook her head and toyed with her cube. "He was a friend of my creators. He took me in, after…" She trailed off.

"I'm sorry," I said. I reached across the table to lightly cover one of her hands with mine. Apis gave me a shy smile and folded her other hand over mine.

The brief silence was more comfortable than earlier. Her handlebars flicked, reminding me of Starscream's burning-with-curiosity wing-twitch. My faceplates heated up as she ran her fingers across my wrists.

"Most Decepticons have scarring here," she said. She looked up, optics scanning the new symbols on my wings before settling on my face. "But you don't. Even when you came in for repairs, you were in better condition than most. And you don't act like the rest either. They don't trust anyone. They act like they're ready for someone to attack them. You act like… well, like what an Autobot should be."

"Thanks, I think…?" I ventured, but I made a mental note to step carefully—Apis was sharper than I gave her credit for, and I didn't want her to know too much.

"I wish…" Apis hesitated, looking down at the table. "I wish more people were like you."

Her gaze shifted from my wrists to my face and back. Finally, she couldn't hold it in. "You don't have to tell me," she said in a rush. "I don't mean to pry. I just…" Her handlebars drew in towards her neck. "You make me wonder."

* * *

We left the restaurant and walked side by side through the darkened streets. It was late, and the town had settled down. We walked closer together now, the backs of our hands brushing, and we smoothly shifted from conversation to easy silence.

Apis suddenly stopped me, grinning. "Follow me!" she whispered, grabbing my hand and ducking into an alley. I let myself be pulled along, turning so that my wings didn't scrape against the walls. While Apis could move with ease, the narrow alley was a bit cramped for me.

"Apis, where are we?"

But she just twisted for another grin as she turned into a stairwell. "You'll see!"

She let go of my hand so I could maneuver. The stairwell seemed to go on forever, and I began to feel claustrophobic.

"Apis?" I called out again, but the femme was gone around another twisting corner, leaving behind only the echo of her laughter and a flash of orange.

"Come on, Nova!" she called out. "You're almost there!"

I surged forward, and suddenly I was on a rooftop. There was a crate of datapads, a small light, and a blanket laid out there, all looking well-used.

"Look up, Nova!" Apis's voice came from somewhere above my head. I only briefly took note of her swinging pedes hanging from an outcropping above the door before I saw the stars.

The _stars_. Primus, I'd never seen so _many_ of them.

I'd flown at night before, but I'd never been able to see the sky like this. I knew what was out there—solar systems, stars, other planets— but I'd never seen them painted so beautifully across the dark blue sky in shades of purple, blue, and white.

"Wow," I whispered. Apis jumped off of her perch, leading me over to the blanket spread out on the roof. She flopped down, putting her hands behind her for balance as she leaned back to look up at the sky.

"Amazing, isn't it?" She patted the space beside her. "Sit down before you put a crick in yer neck, Nova."

I lay back and tucked my hands behind my head, looking into the sky.

"This _is_ amazing," I said. "I've seen the sky before, but _this_?"

"It's the city lights," Apis said. "Out here we don't have the light pollution, so once everyone goes into recharge and turns out the lights, you can see _everything._ It's beautiful, right?"

"Yes," I agreed, sneaking a glance at her from the corner of my optic. "Beautiful."

"What's it like to fly?" She reached up as if she could grab the spiral of a galaxy in her tiny hand. "To see this and know that you can have it all just by firing up your thrusters?" The longing in her voice was hard to miss.

"It's hard to explain. Flying is… enlightening. Humbling, enabling, amazing… it's freedom." I fell silent, searching for words I didn't have. Apis sighed longingly.

Suddenly struck by an idea, I turned my head and grinned at her.

"How would you like to find out?"

* * *

"Eenngghh… are you _sure_ this is a good idea?"

Apis had been ecstatic at first, but now, looking over the edge of the rooftop and supported only by her pedes on top of mine and her arms tight around my torso while mine looped securely at the small of her back, she was beginning to have second thoughts.

"Of course I am." I grinned down at her. "Trust me. I'm a Seeker."

She winced and tucked her face into my canopy. "I trust you, I do, it's just AIEEE!"

I stepped off the building mid-sentence, making her cut off into a panicked scream. She clung to me, practically winding around me as she offlined her optics.

"Apis," I coaxed, sliding my hands up to her neck and shoulder and gingerly stroking her handlebars to get her to relax, "Apis, it's all right. You can look up now."

Apis peeked over her shoulder. When she saw that we were hovering safely, she stuck her head all the way out. Seeing how far we were from the ground made her cling a little tighter, but she vibrated with happiness.

"Nova," she whispered, awestruck, staring out over her town and up at the brilliant stars. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

* * *

By Apis's request, we flew most of the way, but when my thrusters began aching she was quick to insist that we walk so as not to undo the repairs I'd just gotten. Our interlocked hands swung between us. We rounded the last corner and hesitated across the street from Steelcrusher's shop. Apis groaned at the sight of lights in the lower shop levels.

"He _waited up_ for me," she groaned. "Like I'm still a _sparkling._ "

"He cares about you."

"Yeah, but I'm not a protoform anymore. I can take care of myself."

I couldn't resist a grin in response to her pout. "Oh, sure."

She gave my arm a playful shove. "Slagger!"

I laughed and caught her other hand in mine. We both paused, not wanting to give up the moment.

"I had fun," Apis said. "Thanks."

I cleared my vents. "Thank _you_ for not laughing in my face."

"Why would I laugh? You're an interesting mech, Nova. Not hard on the optics, either."

I thought I might short-circuit from the heat of my faceplates. Apis sighed. "I guess I might as well get it over with," she muttered, glaring at the lights of the shop. "My room's up on the third level, so it's not like I can sneak past them…"

"I can," I reminded her. "Do you have a window? I can fly you up there. That way, no interrogation until tomorrow."

Apis grinned up at me. "That would be great."

So we ended up hovering in the air before Apis's window. After she was safely inside, she stuck her head back out to speak to me. I dropped down to optic-level.

"Really, Nova, thank you," she said. "I had a great time."

"Good," I said lamely, then reset my vocalizer. "I had fun too."

The silence came back and this time it was awkward, waiting for something.

Apis was the first to break it. She bit her lip, glanced this way and that, and then took a deep intake. She carefully put one hand on my shoulder, and slowly, giving me time to stop her if I wanted to (but I didn't want to, _really_ didn't want to), leaned in, and gently pressed her mouthplates to mine.

The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on the ground, there was the static in my sight that came from rebooting after a short-out, and Apis was in near-hysterics at my side and babbling that I'd fallen and she hadn't known what to do and she'd panicked and she'd called Starscream and…

Primus, she'd called _Starscream_. I was _never_ going to live this down. I groaned and covered my face with my hands.

The worried chatter tapered off and I looked between my fingers to see Apis wilted at my side. "Apis?"

"Yes?"

I hurried to reassure her. "It's not… you didn't do anything wrong."

I was rewarded with a hopeful smile. "Then… why'd you groan and cover your face?"

"Starscream is _never_ letting me forget this," I admitted. Her handlebars perked up happily.

_Well_ , I decided, _if Starscream's going to taunt me anyway_ …

I leaned up on my elbows. Apis went still, optics staring into mine, searching for… something. I hoped that she found it.

_Might as well make sure it's worth it._

I closed the distance between us.

…and woke up on my back again a few kliks later, this time with Starscream cackling in the background.

I groaned and slapped my hands over my face.

* * *

Starscream had a lot to say about my glitch, usually accompanied by uncontrollable snickers. Only later, when we had readied ourselves for recharge, did something approaching seriousness return to both of us. Starscream's optics glowed through the darkness.

"You realize we can't stay," he said.

"I know."

"Our designations and faces are all over the datastream. I'm surprised that your femme doesn't already know who you are."

I hadn't considered whether Apis already knew more than I'd told her.

"She can't come with us where we're going."

"I know. Why are you telling me this now?"

"We leave tomorrow night."

I'd known we would eventually leave Khalkon, but I'd hoped that I could have more time with Apis. My Spark sank.

Starscream broke the silence again. "If you plan on saying goodbye, do it tomorrow."

* * *

It was painful to see Apis' face light up with happiness at the sight of me, only to fall when she realized why we were there. Knowing that the next time we met, if I _ever_ saw her again, would be a long time away made this even harder.

"I knew you had to go," she said. "And I know the chances we'll meet again are slim, and that it probably wasn't smart to get involved… but I don't regret it," she whispered, reaching out to brush against the back of my hand. I was quick to catch her and Apis tightened her small, slim fingers in my larger ones.

"Even if I only got to be with you for a few orns…" She leaned up and kissed the side of my mouth, just far enough away that it wouldn't make me crash. "…I'm so grateful that I got to meet you at all."

* * *

We left Khalkon by air as shadows fell. I tried not to think about what I had left behind.

Tarn slipped away far below and Kaon appeared beneath us. The city crouched dark and brooding in the blasted, desolate land. Once-proud towers lay shattered on the broken streets. Once-thriving thoroughfares were deserted. There was no dust here; instead, the air felt stale and dead. The oppressive atmosphere pushed down on me as we landed in the grimy outskirts. All around I felt the optics of long-deactivated mechs staring at me, judging me. My sensors played tricks. Whispers met my audios, too soft to understand; figures moved in my peripheral vision but were gone when I looked. Kaon was an ancient city, a city of angry ghosts. She sheltered her children somewhere beneath her war-torn surface and threatened her enemies with a sluggish, yet potent, malice.

Starscream motioned me back towards a blackened building; a sign crunched deafeningly under our pedes as we slipped away.

_/They know we're here,/_ he commed. _/The Autobots monitor activity everywhere in the city. But the others have been waiting for us./_

We waited in the silent darkness. The growing shadows reached out their tendrils to ensnare chunks of rubble.

Night fell over Kaon.

Voices—real voices—reached our audios, indistinct at first but growing louder. Soon we could hear their movement, loud and clumsy in the dead air.

"…nothing here, I swear. You know how the sensors are. Probably just a glitch mouse." This one sounded scared. Young, too, maybe even younger than I.

"You know the drill. Anything disrupts the sensors, we have to investigate. You're probably right, but still…"

"You've heard the rumors, right? About Guardrail's team?"

"And Twin Twist's before that, and Spectrum's before that."

"Primus, I can't wait to get out of this slagging place. I tell you, nothing could be alive here. This is slumming it even for Decepticons."

"Patrols don't just vanish off the face of Cybertron."

"You don't think there's ghosts around here, do you? I've heard…"

"No such thing as ghosts. You could chat my audios off with all the things you've heard, Sprocket. Do you see anything?"

"Not on visual. I'm picking up traces of an energy signature. Think we should call for backup? Because that's sounding really good."

"Topspin's unit is coming from the eighth sector. They'll take a while, since the road collapsed."

"This city's got it in for us. I tell you, I can't wait to get out of… hey, there's some residual thermal energy here."

"I've got it too. Charge up your blaster." The second mech raised his voice. "This is Autobot security. We know you're here. Surrender now and you'll remain functional."

Starscream shifted, making as though to stand.

_/What are you—/_

_/Trust me,/_ he answered, and stood up, motioning for me to stay put. "Don't shoot!" he cried. He'd layered his voice with so much terror and pleading that I was almost fooled. I knew better. "I surrender!"

The Autobots drew near.

"Keep your hands where we can see them," the elder ordered. Starscream extended both arms towards them.

"Like this?"

With a shift of his plating, his completed null-rays emerged, already humming with energy. He fired.

"Hey, wh—!"

The younger Autobot's cry ended suddenly and there were sounds of a scuffle. I stood and saw Sprocket struggling with a pair of mechs. Each managed to pin one of his flailing arms, though he still screamed and kicked. A third Decepticon moved in front, blocking my view. There was the sound of shattering glass, a painful crunch, and the Autobot went limp.

The Decepticons tossed the shell aside as its color began to fade. There were five in all, red optics piercing the darkness. All of them were dull grey, the color of dead, Sparkless metal.

The mech in front, the largest, threw a salute. "Welcome back, Lord Starscream. Stealth Unit Alpha Commander Hardtop at your command. Acting Commander Shockwave sent us to escort you and your companion to the sixth sector entrance."

"Thoughtful of him." Starscream motioned to me and we stepped out into the street. _/Stay behind me and keep quiet./_

Hardtop turned to his troops. "Rampage, Stonewall, take care of that one." He jerked a thumb at the other Autobot, who lay offlined but alive. "If you'll follow me, my lord."

He led the way from the scene. It wasn't quite fast enough to avoid hearing the rending screech of metal and then horrible silence.

Our escort moved with muffled steps. They were part of the city; it was difficult to pick their grey forms apart from the shadowy ruins.

"It's our job to keep the Autobots afraid of the city. The ghost stories are our doing," Hardtop said. "That's what the paintjobs are for. We're the _real_ ghosts of Kaon."

We ducked through a dark doorway into a cavernous hall. The ceiling looked prepared to collapse and crush us. The Stealth Unit paused around a featureless patch of floor and Hardtop scuffed away a sheet of metal to reveal a single dataport. He linked to it and a moment later part of the floor slid aside, revealing a dark staircase.

"The sixth sector entrance," he declared. "Do you require a guide?"

"It hasn't been _that_ long," Starscream said. "Return to your stations."

The grey mechs melted back into the shadows, leaving no sign that they had ever been there. Starscream and I descended the staircase, the trapdoor closing behind us. The tunnel was low and dimly lit, but wide enough to accommodate our wings. Eventually it grew brighter and more regular. Noise grew from a low hum to the sound of movement and industry.

" _Lord_ Starscream?" I muttered. He shot me a scathing look and changed the subject.

"The Stealth Units utilize recent technology that hides their energy signatures. Eventually, I hope, all Decepticons will leave no trace of their presence."

"Wouldn't it be difficult to locate our own mechs?"

"It's a problem. I'll have to check on Shockwave's progress."

Starscream paused, turning suddenly to face me.

"Before we go on," he said, "you need to know it won't be easy. It won't be like Iacon, where I could keep an optic on you. I can't help you. Decepticons leap on weakness; you can't be mine. You have to take care of yourself. Trust no one, be quick on your pedes. Try not to insult anyone. You don't have a trine to back you up. If you're pushed, push back. If an officer gives you an order, follow it. Right now, you are _nothing_ , no more than the dust in our turbines, do you understand?"

I nodded. I couldn't get by on a glare or a sneer in this new territory. I'd need to prove myself, and until then, I should tread carefully.

The hallway opened into a large chamber. The light was dimmed for the night. Much of the cave had been constructed by Cybertronian hands, but some was naturally formed.

The mechs here, the few still awake, were clearly escaped slaves. Most were in some state of disrepair; I wondered whether this was due to a lack of materials, medics, or both. Most had red optics. All wore the purple Decepticon insignia… and all were staring at us.

"Lord Starscream," someone said at last. The greeting was repeated, murmured by dozens of vocal processors. Starscream took it in stride, sweeping his way through the crowd. He'd always been arrogant, but now I saw him in his element: in power and loving it. The stares that followed Starscream—fearful, uncertain, resentful—inevitably landed on me. Their optics burned into the backs of my wings.

I held my head high and exuded cool superiority as I followed my creator through the subterranean city. There were sparse furnishings and a vast network of doors and hallways that Starscream navigated with ease.

"You'll learn your way around," Starscream said. "We're nearing the command center now, so most of these are officers' quarters."

"Where do I stay?"

"Near me. Be grateful. Not everyone gets his own room." We passed a pair of guards who straightened as we walked by. "Don't speak unless spoken to. And don't say anything stupid."

Doors slid open before us and Starscream led the way into the command center. It was a large, circular area built on two levels, one an astrometer or two higher than the other. Busy mechs occupied the consoles and screens scattered around the walls. They scrambled up as we entered.

Two mechs observed the rest from the second level. Both bowed as we ascended. One, a mech with dark purple plating, stepped forward. I was taken aback by his featureless face: he had no mouth, no olfactory ridge, just a single red optic.

"Congratulations on your safe return, Lord Starscream," he said. His cultured voice came as a shock. I'd been expecting a voice of lesser quality, not this crisp and precise speech.

"Shockwave," Starscream said. "I trust the preparations have gone smoothly?"

"Indeed. Have I informed you of the safe arrival of our Communications Officer?" Shockwave indicated the mech beside him.

"Soundwave," said Starscream. The second mech, his face hidden beneath a red visor and a silver mask, inclined his head.

"Starscream: acknowledged. Query: identity of your companion?"

Starscream chose his words with caution. "A new recruit. Nova assisted in my departure from Iacon."

Both mechs watched me closely. Soundwave's stare was disconcerting. I felt that he could see through Starscream's story and straight into my processor.

After they had talked for several cycles, discussing numbers and weapons, Starscream motioned to me. "We've had a long journey," he said. "We require recharge."

Shockwave bowed again. "As you wish, my lord. Your wingmates have prepared your quarters."

Starscream visibly cheered up. "When did they arrive?"

"An orn ago."

Starscream's quarters were close to the command center. As the door slid open, two Seeker-shaped cannonballs shot out, slamming him into the wall across the hallway.

" _Screamer_!"

"Don't _call_ me that, idiot!" Starscream's hand appeared out of the tangle of mechs, jerking to the right. "Door, inside, over there. Yours."

I stepped inside my quarters and gasped. The rooms were even more spacious than those in Iacon. This couldn't be standard for "new recruits." I asked Starscream about it as soon as he disentangled from his wingmates. He answered with a mysterious smile.

"They were vacated," he said. "Recharge. I have work to do. So will you."


	12. Kaon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mechs who come in here never go out."

After a night of uneasy dreams in which Sprocket still screamed in terror and fought to live, I entered Starscream's quarters and found Skywarp. He tossed me an energon cube. "Starscream's busy with preparations, so you've got the orn to explore."

"Preparations? For what?"

"For our glorious return to the surface world or some poetic slag," Skywarp said with a snort. "We're getting ready to jump back in the fight. It'll give the Autobots something to chew on." He laughed, then waved a hand in farewell as he headed for the door. "Anyway, go have a look around. Try not to get your aft kicked."

"I'll keep that in mind."

I drank my energon in a rush and went out into the halls. Mechs watched me curiously; whether because of my wings, my novelty, or whatever usually attracted their optics, I didn't know. I ignored them. Instead, I peeked into any open doors I saw, finding washracks, storerooms, more hallways, common areas.

Then I looked into a dim room and saw a stilled conveyor belt and several dark piles. I went inside for a better look. The room was larger than it had first appeared. Shadows loomed around me. The glow of my optics gleamed off of broken metal surfaces and shards of glass. The conveyor belt was stained in several places. I looked closer—it was energon.

_ What  _ is _this place?_ I wondered. I peered closer at the nearest pile. A moment later I recoiled… was that a _hand_? Morbidly fascinated, I looked again and saw more discarded parts, some in better condition than others. They all came from different mechs, many battle-damaged. The only thing they had in common was that all were still usable.

"You're early."

The quiet statement made me jerk away from the macabre heap. A mech had appeared while I was distracted. The door hissed shut, throwing us into near-darkness. I tensed at the loss of my escape route.

The mech was neither overly large nor very small, with a wingless silhouette. The red glow of his optics bounced off my armor and the stacks of plating.

"Wouldn't expect to see you here for a while yet," he said. His voice was deep and husky.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Undertaker," he said. "Designation and function. Yours?"

"Nova."

"I thought so." He paced around me, scanning me up and down. "Fine set of wings you've got there. Haven't had new wings for a while. Seems to be the first thing to get destroyed."

"Uh—"

"Autobots like to strip a Seeker before we get there. Like the wings for trophies. Try to crash on our side when you go."

"I—"

"Forgive me if I ramble. I don't get visitors. You bring back memories."

"Memories? Of what?"

"Ah, Seekers, the most important parts always destroyed when they come in here. Wings, thrusters? Gone. Let me see." Undertaker came right up to me, strong fingers pulling at my arm. I jerked away. "Unmodified. No weapons. You'll need to fix that."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ah, just like his frame. Now there was a frame I'd have loved to get my hands on. Perfect form, beautifully made. That cannon would have been a prize… never would have passed that on without his permission. But can't get permission from the dead. You can tell anything you want to a shell and they'll just listen. It wears on the processor. All those astrocycles. Those wings of yours are nice. What would he think of you? Well, you won't join him for a long time."

"Who?"

"Unless I'm wrong." His optics took on a sinister gleam. "I don't get visitors. You're a strange one. You came early. Are you volunteering? Are you already offlined? Those pretty wings could serve another Seeker, so nice of you to keep them intact for me."

I backed away from him. "I'm not offlined," I said. "I was just looking."

"You haven't realized yet. I see. Strange ghost… haven't noticed…"

"I'm not a ghost! I'm alive!"

"Mechs who come in here never go out. A hand here, a pede there, repair, repaint, and recycle, no sense in wasting, but Primus, _he_ was a mech with a frame I'd have loved…"

"I'm alive!" I repeated emphatically, backing into the wall before his relentless advance. I activated the command to open my chest. The blue glow of my Spark made him rear back, optics wide.

"Now there's something I haven't seen in a long time," he murmured at last. He looked up into my face. "You _are_ alive… you _are_ alive. You're back… no, not you, not with those pretty wings…" He looked back at my Spark and I closed my chamber uncomfortably.

"I'm leaving," I told him, skirting around him in the direction of the door.

"Mechs who come in here never go out," he said quietly, still staring at me.

"Then let me be the first," I answered. The door opened and I backed out. Undertaker's optics followed me until the door closed.

I hurried away from that door as fast as my dignity would allow. Undertaker had shaken me. His rambling had seemed to have no substance, and yet I had the feeling that he'd said something important.

The hallway ended at an impressive door. I hesitated before it, reading the glyphs which traveled in winding spirals across its surface—knowledge, memory, truth, past, thoughts, and dreams—before it opened to let another mech out. I stepped aside to let him pass. Then, intrigued, I entered.

The soft blue glow of active consoles and shelf upon shelf of datapads permeated the large, dark room. There were a few others inside, absorbed in their work. It was completely silent save occasional footsteps or a soft murmur. I walked as quietly as I could, marveling at the sheer amount of data contained in one place. The anxiety from my encounter with Undertaker soaked away in the soothing atmosphere.

At the other end of the long hall was another door. I went through and found myself in a round room surrounded by six doors. Each was labeled with one of the six glyphs I’d seen outside.

"Are you looking for something?" a soft voice asked. I turned to see a mech—where had _he_ come from? He was tall and thin; his frame suggested a flier, though he lacked visible wings. Pale red optics gleamed from his silvery face.

"I, ah, no... what is this place?" I asked quietly, reluctant to disturb the peace.

"The Archives," the silver mech replied. Something in his gaze felt strange, but I couldn't place it. "Each of these doors leads to one of our halls." He pointed to the door labeled "past." "The Hall of Records, the history of our kind." The next door displayed "truth." "The Hall of Truth, for scientists. Next the Hall of Thoughts, for those seeking theory and philosophy. The Hall of Dreams, full of stories for entertainment. And the Hall of Memory."

"What's in there?" I asked.

"Follow me."

He led the way through the door and into the next hall. There were no datapads here, only consoles. Three of the seven were occupied, the mechs sitting there linked directly into them, immersed in whatever data was being viewed.

"Here in this room are the compiled memories of all Decepticons," the Archivist said. "All who wish to copy their memory to the Archives may. It will be locked from public view until their termination; a mech may choose to pass his memories to those who follow. Would you like to leave your memories here?"

"Maybe later. So there are entire lives here?"

The mech nodded slowly. "Nearly every Decepticon who was ever online."

"Starscream's memories are here?"

"Yes."

I hesitated. "Megatron?"

"Of course." The Archivist's gaze intensified as he looked me over. "Yes. Up until the very last moment. Starscream brought everything back."

"What do you mean, he brought it back?"

"He was the only one who witnessed Megatron’s termination. He retrieved the contents of Megatron's processor before the Autobots could and visited here earlier to deliver them."

"I didn't know," I murmured.

"Megatron's memory will remain locked. If you're looking for him, you may find him in someone else's memory."

Frowning, I took my leave. I would like to return here soon and leave some of my memory, some of myself, so that others might understand why I’d done what I had when I was long-offlined. I wanted to see Megatron, too, and understand him, and to see Starscream and learn more about him. Perhaps learning from past Decepticons would help me get by here.

As I made my way back to the command center, I reflected on what the Archivist had said. Starscream never talked about Axis. He'd never told me anything about his experiences in the War. I _had_ to know what I was up against. I would ask Starscream about the War, the Decepticons, Earth, Megatron. If anyone would know, surely it would be him. He'd been Megatron's second-in-command.

I found Starscream in his quarters with Thundercracker, speaking softly together. They stopped as I came in.

"Nova. Been exploring?" Starscream asked. I nodded.

"I met a mech called Undertaker and found the Archives. Do you have a cycle? I want to talk to you."

Starscream threw a glance at the door. "There are things I really should get back to."

"Shockwave's managed for a centivorn without you," Thundercracker said. "I'm sure he can handle another few breems."

"But now, just when we've got everything—?"

"Talk with Nova. He's your sparkling. I'll let you know if there’s a major crisis in the next megacycle," his wingmate said. I gave him a grateful smile as he passed. His energy field nudged mine affectionately.

Starscream gestured to his wingmate's vacated seat. "Undertaker? You actually went in there?"

"It's not like I knew beforehand," I pointed out. “You should put up a sign.”

"And you got out alive? He tends to scrap mechs who wander in there. His processor is glitched, but no one else will take his function."

I remembered something Undertaker had said. "Do Autobots really take Seekers' wings as trophies?"

"They do. I've seen too many stripped Seekers after a battle..."

I shared his grimace. Wings were a Seeker's pride. The idea of losing my wings, even in death, terrified me.

"And you visited the Archives. Did you spend any time in the Hall of Memory?"

"The Archivist mentioned something interesting. About Megatron's memories." Starscream frowned. "You never mentioned you were there at Axis."

"Everyone was at Axis."

"But you were _there_ when Megatron... was offlined."

"Did he say I killed him?" he asked.

"No. I just want to know, and you're the only one alive who saw it."

Starscream hesitated. "I'd rather keep it to myself, believe it or not."

"I understand. But I'd still like to know."

He sneered. "Of course, you'll order me to tell you whether I want to or not."

"I might.”

Finally he looked past me, scowling at the wall.

"We shouldn't have been there. The Autobot fleet had stopped at the Axis cluster to regroup and repair themselves, and Megatron ordered the attack. We had the element of surprise, but Autobots can be surprisingly creative. I went to argue with Megatron... we always argued."

"Why?"

He snorted. "Because he was an idiot. I was there to tell him just how much of an idiot he was." He sounded bitter. "We argued. Then the world exploded. An Autobot gunner had hit the flagship right in the command center." He hesitated, and I wondered what he was editing out of the story. "And that was all. The Autobots boarded and took the survivors prisoner."

"If that was all, is it secret?" I asked.

"Don't push your luck, scraplet."

"Tell me what really happened," I ordered in frustration. "Show me if you can't say it."

His Spark-oath compelled him to obey a direct order. He glared at me, reaching unwillingly to his arm and tugging out a cable. I bared the corresponding port and he linked us together.

I had a moment to feel his consciousness swirling around with mine, roiling with pride and bitterness, yearning and anger, before he plunged me into a memory file. I watched through Starscream's optics as he and Megatron stood on the bridge of a starship, a ferocious battle raging outside.

"…foolishness when we should have gone on and secured our hold on Cybertron!" Starscream was saying.

"This is our chance to destroy Prime and his Autobots," Megatron growled. "They weren't expecting us."

"This 'battle' is a _disaster_ ," the Seeker scoffed. "Have too many vorns made you forget how to wage war in space? We need to pull back and regroup before we lose too many of our soldiers..."

"Pull back?" bellowed Megatron. "I'm finished retreating! Decepticons _don’t_ retreat! It's time we reminded them."

"Then continue this idiocy!" Starscream hissed. "I, for one, am taking my Seekers and—"

Megatron backhanded him hard enough to send the smaller mech sprawling. "Deserters will be punished," he snarled. "Your treachery knows no bounds, Starscream!"

Starscream shot angrily to his pedes. "And your stubbornness will kill us all! We can't—"

As he spoke, Megatron's optics focused over Starscream's shoulder. Without warning, he seized his second's arm, wrenching him forward and stepping between him and the windows in one stride. All of this took less than a klik, and then the world erupted.

The explosion blew fire and shrapnel everywhere. The force of it threw both mechs into the air. Starscream's wings and left side were a mass of searing agony as he landed heavily, barely online. For half a cycle he lay staring at the glowing shards of metal littering the deck, and then he mustered up his strength and lifted himself to one elbow, looking around.

Burnt and twisted metal lay among glittering pieces of reinforced glass all over the demolished bridge. The ship's emergency field shimmered over the breach, keeping everything from being sucked into the void. Megatron lay a body length away.

Starscream dragged himself to his commander's side, leaving a trail of energon. Megatron's once-proud frame was in ruins, and energon formed a spreading pool beneath him. The Seeker shifted so he could touch Megatron with his functioning arm. Red optics flickered, focused. No words were exchanged, though Starscream's Spark was a whirl of pain and confusion over Megatron's final act. The other mech reached up and touched Starscream's chest just over his Spark. Then his arm fell to the floor with a clang and his optics went dark and wrenching agony rent Starscream's Spark, like it was being torn apart—

"Enough," Starscream said, jerking away and leaving me trembling. I stared at him, my processor struggling to catch up.

"It hurt," I said, momentarily unable to think of anything else.

"Of course it hurt, my wings were half-melted. I should get back to the command center."

I followed him, determined for answers. "When he died, it hurt your Spark." I'd never heard of such a thing.

"No matter. I need to return to my work.”

We were almost at the command center. "Hey," someone called. I turned. The mech who'd spoken looked young, his frame a newer model based on an Earth design.

"Oh, _excellent_ ," I heard Starscream mutter.

The groundling took two steps forward. His red-and-black plating was battered, and I noticed scars on his wrists. An escaped slave.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped.

"You called me," I said defensively.

"You looking for trouble?"

"Not really."

"I know about you, Autobot. You can't pass as one of us!"

There were murmurs from the mechs who had gathered to see what was going on. I hitched my wings higher, narrowing my optics angrily.

"I'm as Decepticon as you are."

The red mech smashed his fists together. "Then prove it. I'll see you in the arena."

He departed, along with many of the gawkers. I glanced back at Starscream, who looked equal parts amused and resigned. "What just happened?"

Starscream's mouthplates twitched into a smirk. "You've been challenged. We settle disputes through duels here."

"What dispute? He just… I didn't even…"

"What does it matter? You've been challenged, and if you back down they’ll think you’re weak."

There was a flash of purple between us and Skywarp was suddenly there. I jumped straight into the wall in surprise.

"Hey, Nova! Is it true you got challenged already?"

"Where did… how did you…?"

"I see the grapevine is still functioning as efficiently as ever," Starscream said dryly.

"What’s a grape—never mind! How the _slag_ did you-?"

"Don't blow a circuit," laughed Skywarp. "How did you think I got my designation? The Autobots had my teleport on lockdown but Screamer—"

"Don't _call_ me that!"

"—fixed the thingy but that's not important now, did you or didn't you?"

"He did," Starscream said.

"Nice! This I've gotta see. Try not to get your aft kicked!"

He was gone in another flash of purple. I glanced anxiously at Starscream, but his smirk offered no sympathy.

"We'd better get moving," he said. "Wouldn't want to be late, would we?"

I bobbed along unwillingly at his side. "How serious are these duels, exactly?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On who's fighting and how angry they are. You'll draw in quite an audience. That groundpounder seems to know where you came from."

"I didn't even do anything!"

"Do me a favor and win. I'd hate to see a Seeker beaten by a groundpounder."

I understood that there was more than Starscream's pride at stake. He'd taken a risk bringing me here; if I failed to prove myself, it would reflect poorly on him.

We entered the largest area I'd yet seen in Kaon. The cavernous chamber was full of noisy Decepticons.

"The arena," Starscream told me. "Sparring grounds. Duels are fought in the center, where the seats are."

"Is it always so crowded?"

"This is a special occasion."

"I'm so special that I get to have my aft handed to me in front of _half the fragging Decepticon army?_ "

Starscream's optics flared. "You'd _better_ not."

We approached the arena, where Skywarp and Thundercracker were already waiting.

"Your opponent has given up his weapons," Thundercracker told me. "An honorable mech."

"You mean he didn't have to?" I was growing more nervous by the klik.

"Of course not," Starscream said. "You're allowed to take off, but only if you land in the ring. If you step out or get forced out, you forfeit. Aside from that, anything goes."

"Wh- anything?" All three nodded. "When does it end?"

"Whenever the victor chooses," Starscream said. My intakes hitched nervously. "I have the authority to call a halt if things get out of hand. Don’t make me do that. Favoritism will get us both killed."

The crowd was getting impatient, and my opponent looked edgy. With no further words, Starscream and Skywarp went off for a better view. Thundercracker accompanied me to the edge of the ring.

_ /You understand how important this is?/ _ he asked over comm. _/ They're testing you, and testing Starscream. There are enough doubts about him already./_

_ /Wait, what? What do you—/ _

He pushed me into the ring, the border of which was carved into the floor and lined with glyphs. My opponent watched me intently, grinning.

"Come on, Autobrat," he taunted. He was larger than I, though not by much, and if the cheering was any indication, he was more experienced in the arena.

The red mech made the first move, feinting forward and darting back. He'd been testing my nerve; I hadn't flinched. While he processed this, I lunged. He had quick reflexes. He jerked aside and punched at my unguarded back. Faster than I'd expected. I caught a flash of his still-grinning face and a lick of anger rose in my Spark.

Who was he to doubt my place here? I was a Decepticon. I belonged here.

I fought with everything that Starscream and the trine had taught me, but the slagger was always one step ahead, and _still_ smiling.

"Is that all?" he asked as we were pressed close. I could hear his vents whirring. _At least I'm making him work at it._ Without waiting for a reply, he hooked his leg around mine and swept my pedes from under me. I grabbed him as I fell, steering so he'd land on the bottom. He heaved upwards to flip us over, pinning me. "I thought you might make it difficult, but that wasn't so hard. Kind of pathetic, actually."

Cold fury surged in my Spark. Baring my denta in a snarl, I ground out, "Finish it first, _then_ brag."

I bucked up, loosening his hold on me and head-butting him in the face. As he floundered, dazed, I seized his throat and reversed our positions again, slamming him into the ground so hard that something cracked. I'd wiped the smirk from his faceplates. I felt a dizzying satisfaction at his pained gasp of "Yield!"

Noise reached my audios and after a moment I realized that they were cheering. For… me.

They shouted and laughed, yelling praise and advice. I caught the gist of what they were saying and realized in a horrified instant that they wanted me to _terminate_ him.

Was that the Decepticon way? Those weak enough to lose weren’t worth the energon they consumed? I _could_ do it, so easily, just by exerting more pressure on the delicate cables of his neck, or slicing vital wiring with just a twitch of my claws…

I could almost feel the energon spilling over my hands. Something inside me _wanted_ this, wanted it enough to make my fingers twitch just a bit tighter, and I felt the other mech shudder.

_ To hold another mech’s life in your hands is a grave responsibility. _

I released his throat and stood, taking a step back. There were a few disappointed groans, but they kept cheering all the same. As the crowd began to disperse, I reached down to help the red mech up. He accepted my outstretched hand as other mechs flooded out of the seats, some heading for the hallways, some pausing to give me an appraising stare.

"I thought I was done for," the red mech said.

"You would have had me if you'd been armed," I said. "Almost had me anyway." After a moment's hesitation, I offered, "I'm Nova."

"Ramrod," he returned. "That was a good fight. We should try that again sometime."

"Er…" I hadn't expected such a drastic turnaround. Moments ago this mech had been going for my Spark and now he sounded as if we'd met over high-grade.

"No hard feelings. You could have offlined me for the sport of it."

"You could have shot me in the face," I said.

"Why don't you find me sometime and I'll show you some tricks? You've got the makings of a fighter. And that's a smart thing to be around here—Decepticons like fighters."

"Like Megatron?"

Ramrod grinned. "So I've heard."

Starscream was suddenly at my side, Skywarp hanging on my back. Thundercracker was more reserved, but he radiated calm approval.

"That's a good kid!" Skywarp crowed, helm bumping affectionately against mine. He caught sight of Ramrod and shamelessly looked him up and down. "Ooh, he’s a keeper."

"What…?!" I shrugged him off, embarrassed.

Starscream pulled me aside. "Well done," he murmured. That was all, but I stood a little straighter at the pride in his voice.

"Nova!"

This was from Ramrod, who had edged away from the amorous Skywarp. He gestured to another part of the room. "Want to spar some? Show me that head-butt of yours again and I’ll teach you a reversal."

"Uh, sure," I said uncertainly. I'd never been accepted into any of the social circles back in Iacon, so I had no idea how to act now. I didn't think Skywarp's winking-and-nudging was quite what Ramrod had in mind, and it was certainly nothing like I'd felt around Apis.

Perhaps this was what it was like to make a friend.


	13. Decepticon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can make a name for yourself the same way I did."

Ramrod soon showed me just how badly my close-quarters skills needed improvement. He taught in classic Decepticon style: learn or lose body parts. The more we worked together, the more I realized that without my luck and determination, he could have taken me apart piece by piece in the arena.

He was an excellent fighter. Though friendly with me, he didn't hesitate to join in a brawl; his humor was black, his behavior brutal; his hatred of Autobots was apparent.

As my self-repair systems beat out the dents that Ramrod had just put in my plating, I asked him something that had been nagging at me for a few orns.

"Why did you pick a fight with me?"

He flopped down on the floor beside me. "I was Sparked a slave," he said. "I never knew freedom. I had to escape on my own and run from the Autobots the whole way down. And then I had to earn my place here. So when I heard who you were, I was angry. I thought that since you hadn't suffered like I had, you hadn't earned your right to be here. I was angry that you could call yourself a Decepticon."

His fingers rubbed back and forth over the scars on his wrists. I hadn't seen this side of him before. "You're much stronger than I am," I said.

"Nah. You can make a name for yourself the same way I did."

He detached a hinged strut from his arm. He gave it a quick spin and it locked straight. "A few decacycles in, I terminated a mech with this. Right through the Spark."

My intakes stuttered. Even Ramrod had killed, the same Ramrod who laughed and helped me up whenever he knocked my pedes out from under me.

"Slagger thought I was getting too far ahead of myself, said he'd teach me a lesson." His laugh was darker this time. "I'm a slow learner."

Because I spent so much of my time in the training grounds, 'cons were always challenging me to anything from a casual spar to a battle for our Sparks. Thanks to Ramrod, I managed to keep both my pride and my life. I never deactivated any of the mechs who challenged me. Killing fellow Decepticons seemed senseless; we needed every mech we could get. I'd never terminated a mech and I wasn't looking forward to it. I hoped it would be easier in the heat of battle.

The more victories I won in the arena, the more mechs greeted me by designation in the halls, treated me with greater respect. I held myself with pride, glad that I was making a name for myself.

One problem quickly became apparent. Both Ramrod and I agreed that I had to have weapons.

Starscream dragged me off to his laboratory—it seemed he hadn't completely cast off his background. He gathered supplies and a pair of arm rifles like those his trine wore.

"These should do it," he said. "Nothing fancy, but more efficient than the standard-issue guns."

He put me into temporary stasis for the procedure. I dreamed of Optimus and homesickness flooded my Spark. I wanted so badly to see him again, but it was unlikely I'd be seeing him for a long time. Worse, when I did, it could be on the other end of a blaster.

I woke up with slightly heavier arms and some brand-new programming. Starscream had successfully mounted the rifles beneath my shoulders.

"Everything integrating properly?" Starscream asked. I nodded. "Good. I've isolated them from your systems so you won't randomly shoot things until you learn how to use those. Which you're coming with me to do right now."

With concentration, I learned to fire my new weapons. Starscream sentenced me to practice with one of the trine each orn to improve my aim. Finally he put his hands on his hips and regarded me.

"Hm. You almost look like a real Decepticon now." He cast a critical optic over the flimsy painted symbols on my wings. "Just one more thing."

* * *

I tried to conceal my anxiety as I knelt on the cold floor in front of my creator. Skywarp was jittery and excited as he stood by the door. Thundercracker stood directly behind me, his energy field soothing against mine. Shockwave was also in attendance; he held the charged and crackling brand with which I was soon to become intimately familiar.

"Ordinarily, this is when you would swear the Oath of Allegiance," Starscream said. "But in your case, that's not necessary."

This got Shockwave's attention. "Lord Starscream," he began disapprovingly, "all Decepticons _must_ take the oath."

"Not this one," the Seeker said, holding out an expectant hand.

"The loyalty of this recruit is already in question, and if he..."

"I can vouch for his loyalty," Starscream interrupted tersely. "Let me be the judge of that."

"But—"

" _Do not question me_ ," hissed Starscream, taking a threatening step closer. His optics dimmed, a sure sign that they were communicating silently. Shockwave's head jerked towards me, a long and calculating stare. He surrendered the glowing brand. Starscream glared at him for a moment longer, then turned to me. I steeled myself, taking comfort from Thundercracker's silent presence at my back.

Starscream laid the crackling mark to my wing. For a klik I felt nothing; then it hit me like the wind over Simfur. My damage sensors went berserk, alerts flashing across my vision and pinging in my processor. My entire frame tensed in pain. I bit down hard on my glossa, a scream building in my vocalizer.

It was only a few kliks, but it felt longer before Starscream pulled back. I cycled air furiously, wings already trembling.

"All right?"

I nodded. "One more?"

Starscream laughed in sadistic delight. "Three," he said. "One on the front and back of each wing."

Without giving me time to panic, he pressed the brand to my other wing. I didn't realize that my motor systems had tried to jerk me away until I felt Thundercracker keeping me still. I thought of Optimus, bringing up memories of bright days in Iacon, when strong hands lifted me effortlessly onto impossibly high shoulders, getting me that much closer to the sky. I remembered his deep laugh as I stretched my tiny hands up towards the endless blue. I'd never been afraid of falling; I knew Optimus would catch me.

_Three_. I reviewed the moves Ramrod had taught me. _Ramrod_ probably hadn't cried out when he'd been branded. He'd been through too much to crumple under this.

_Four_. The cool darkness of the night sky surrounded me; a warm frame clung closer to mine; handlebars twitched nervously at how high we were. Apis wouldn't make a sound... stronger than I deserved, and yet... and yet she'd held me as though she couldn't bear to be parted from me. I wouldn't disappoint her.

Finally, Starscream backed off. I felt Thundercracker's hands steadying me. I onlined my optics, waiting for the static to clear.

"Show me your hands," Thundercracker said. It was difficult to unclench my fingers. My claws had dug into my plating and energon welled up from the marks. I hadn't even felt it. My wings shook as Thundercracker's hands soothed along the top edge.

The blue Seeker drew away and I looked up to see Starscream.

"Stand up, soldier," he commanded. I rose to my landing struts. My wings tingled and stung, but it was worth it: I was a true Decepticon now.

* * *

Activity increased over the following orbits. More mechs frequented the training grounds, drilling with their officers. Starscream practically lived in the command center, coming back to his quarters only for energon and recharge.

Starscream put me on the duty roster. Because I was a rookie, I was assigned the most boring task imaginable: monitor duty.

During these five megacycles of terminal boredom, I became acquainted with Soundwave and his cassettes. I'd heard Soundwave was a telepath, which both unnerved and intrigued me. His little minions formed his own personal spy network. The eldest were Frenzy and Rumble, twin terrors. Reports varied on which designation went with which paintjob. I suspected that they kept switching to add to the confusion. They were about half the size of an average mech, but made up for it in trouble.

The others had forms based on alien creatures. Ravage stalked through the corridors on four legs, seeking conversations to carry back to Soundwave. There were fliers, too, Buzzsaw and Laserbeak.

I was surprised that Soundwave and his cassettes hadn't been separated after Axis, and I mentioned this to the twins.

"We were," the blue one told me.

"But they couldn't hold us," the other piped up.

"So we all escaped."

"All except Ratbat."

"Good riddance."

"You're telling me."

"No room for traitors here."

"What happened to Ratbat?" I asked. The designation was familiar. Both twins scowled.

"Gone."

I couldn't get information out of the two, and I was too nervous to ask Soundwave. It would be many vorns before I heard Ratbat's designation again.

Before monitor duty drove me insane with boredom, someone (again, probably Starscream) cleared me for more interesting assignments. The Stealth Unit commander, Hardtop, showed up as I trained with Ramrod.

"Everyone said I'd find you here," he said. "Getting twitchy underground?"

It _was_ grinding on my nerves. There were places in the Kaon base high enough to fly in, but they were nothing compared to the open sky.

"I've got room for you topside. You can serve on a Stealth Unit. With your colors, you won't even need to get repainted."

It was better than monitor duty.

I grew to know Upper Kaon as well as the underground complex. I learned to move soundlessly and use shadows for cover, to blend into my surroundings and to become one with the dead city. The unit was a close-knit group full of superstitions and traditions. The rituals became second-nature to me. It was all to bring us closer to the dead city, building the mythology that made the Autobots afraid to venture near the concealed entrances to our base.

I got along well with most mechs in my unit, but there were those who still regarded me with scorn and suspicion. I threw it right back at them. Most of them were groundpounders unworthy of my attention.

When the other "Ghosts" found out that I had never killed, half of them saw it as a grand joke.

"Saving yourself for someone special?" Spotlight ribbed. He was one of the ones I'd met before being placed in his unit.

I snorted and gave him a shove. "Shut up."

"Or does the thought make you sick?" Fogscythe sneered from behind me. He was among those who'd rejected me. "The thought of ripping out someone's Spark with your bare claws offends your delicate sensibilities? Or is it just that you don't want to terminate a buddy of yours?"

I was about to respond with some suggestions for where he could shove his words before facing me in the arena, but at that moment, Hardtop appeared.

"We're on," he said. "Autobot patrol near the third sector entrance. Move out, Ghosts."

The Autobots were completely unprepared. My task was to keep any from getting away; as the fastest in the unit, I'd have the best chance of catching them. I averted my optics from the slaughter under the pretense of checking for more.

Just when I thought it was over, Fogscythe called out to me. He shoved a blue-and-white Autobot down in front of me, yanking the mech's head back cruelly as he tried to protect himself. Someone had already taken care of his weapons.

"I brought you a present," Fogscythe said. "Since you were stuck on the perimeter, I thought I'd leave you some fun, out of the goodness of my Spark."

I balked, looking down at the helpless Autobot. Fogscythe saw my hesitation.

"You're playing with the big mechs now," he sneered, claws digging viciously into his captive's helm. "Time to grow up."

This wasn't what I'd wanted. This wasn't how I'd hoped it would be, quick and easy, a wound cauterized by the heat of battle. Instead I faced a defeated opponent, defenseless and afraid.

"Are you a Decepticon or aren't you?"

The question stung. Of _course_ I was a Decepticon. I'd chosen my side. I glared at Fogscythe and he smirked, guessing my answer.

"Prove it."

I hesitated a moment longer. Hope glimmered in the Autobot's optics, and in the end, that spurred me on. Kinder to do it quickly.

I aimed one of my arm rifles and fired. It was over quickly; there was no time for him to feel any pain as his Spark flared and died. His body fell forward to fade to gray at my pedes.

I met Fogscythe's optics, taking no satisfaction in what I'd done. Rather than say anything, he turned and stalked off in the opposite direction.

Though Spotlight clapped me on the shoulder and Hardtop nodded approvingly, I couldn't help but feel as though I'd lost the confrontation.

* * *

I went straight to my quarters and lay in the dark, unable to recharge. The circuitry behind my optics was hot. I shuttered them, but I still saw the Autobot's face.

I didn't notice the other Seeker until a gentle hand stroked my wing. Without looking I knew it was Thundercracker. We said nothing.

Finally I databurst the memory to him. He didn't stop his soft, comforting motions, and he didn't speak, but his sympathy was apparent. I tucked my head into my elbow, hiding my face, and let him lull me into recharge.


	14. Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This orn we take back the city. Once we emerge from hiding, we will be at open war with our Autobot oppressors once more."

"Remind me again why we have to do this?"

"Would you harden up?!" Starscream snarled, more than finished with my pestering. "You're a Seeker, and Seekers come in trines. You should be praying to Primus that we haven't fallen even; I haven't designed maneuvers for four."

"And flying solo is no fun," Skywarp added from behind me. Thundercracker wasn't with us as we headed towards an upper hall. I'd scarcely seen him since the night several decacycles ago when I had terminated my first mech.

I had sent two more Sparks on their way since. One I had gunned down as he tried to flee; the other had run at me headlong, determined to get past me in any way he could. He'd come at me with an energon blade, but I'd managed to turn his own weapon on him. Neither had been easier than the first. They'd all hurt me in the same way.

They said it would grow easier with time. Part of me wanted to get used to it. The other part hoped I would never grow desensitized to death.

I couldn't help but wonder about each mech I'd killed. Had he owned slaves? Did he leave behind a sparkling or a bondmate? Who had he been, and who could he have been if his Spark hadn't been snuffed before its time?

Skywarp was still talking. "With a trine you've got both of your wings… you're whole. You see the sky and you can take it. You can't do that with one or two… but three?" He grinned at me, warmth in his optics. "Three can get you anywhere."

The hallway ended abruptly before us. For a moment I was confused, but Starscream soared up through a Seeker-sized gap in the ceiling. We followed him and I found myself in the most unusual structure I'd ever seen. It was a tower, perhaps three hundred astrometers tall, but without stairs or lifts of any sort. Different levels consisted of rings running around the inside of the tower, each about twenty astrometers apart. The occasional walkway spanned the tower's diameter, but most of the area was open air. No windows broke the walls, but the top of the structure had been shattered, letting the sky show through.

And there were _Seekers_. Primus, they were everywhere. There couldn't have been more than thirty, but it was still more than I'd ever seen in one place. They came in all colors of the standard spectrum. Their chatter drifted into my audios, snatches of indistinct phrases from all manner of vocalizers. All shared the same haughty bearing. As we entered, the closest optics regarded us and the odd salute was thrown.

"What is this place?"

"This is where the Seekers stay," Skywarp said.

"But it's open. Wouldn't the Autobots—"

"In case you didn't notice, there aren't many Autobot fliers," Starscream said.

Thundercracker landed gracefully before his trineleader. "There's only one left out," he reported. "Acid Storm's third."

"There's been no word from the other Rainmakers?"

"Nothing. They were separated under the Axis Decree."

"Hm. He'll have to do, then. Lead the way."

We followed Thundercracker to the second level. A Seeker, painted a lighter shade of blue than Thundercracker, waited there for us.

"Designation and function," Starscream demanded. The blue Seeker saluted.

"Hurricane, Rainmaker third, Decepticon warrior."

"Acknowledged. Correction: Rainmaker trineleader."

If Hurricane was affected by this, he gave no sign. Instead he responded, "Correction noted. Hurricane, Rainmaker trineleader, Decepticon warrior."

Starscream nodded, then summoned me forward with a flick of his hand. "This is Nova, trineless, Decepticon cadet."

_/Not warrior?/_

_/Not until you've seen battle and done something worth it,/_ Skywarp supplied helpfully.

"He is your right wing now. You will teach him to fly with a trine. In battle, he is your responsibility, and whether he is a strength or a weakness depends upon your training."

"Understood, Commander Starscream." There was audible reluctance in Hurricane's voice. Without warning, Starscream grabbed him by the throat, dragging him forward to hiss into his face.

"If you fail to bring him back, I will personally tear off your wings before throwing you off the Tower. _And I'll make it slow_. Understood?"

Again, this time rasping through the dangerous grip on his vocal processors, Hurricane answered, "Understood, Commander Starscream."

Starscream let him go and the blue Seeker stood to attention as though nothing had happened. Next Starscream's optics focused on me. I flinched, half-expecting him to lash out at me, too.

"Designation and function."

Taking the format from Hurricane, I answered, "Nova, Rainmaker second, Decepticon cadet."

Starscream nodded approvingly. "Acknowledged."

"Technically they're not really Rainmakers anymore," Skywarp pointed out. "Not without the others."

Closer to Hurricane, I saw my new trinemate twitch.

"That's irrelevant. Trineleader Hurricane, I leave this in your hands."

Starscream spared the blue Seeker one last warning glare before taking to the air, his wingmates right behind, and re-entering the base. I looked back at Hurricane in time to see him droop. His expression looked more sad than angry. He scanned me, then pulled a face.

"You're hardly more than a protoform," he said. Now that he wasn't using his crisp military tone, his voice was gloomy and slow. "I'm a sparkling-sitter now."

I took offense. "For your information, I've been out of my protoform for a centivorn and a half."

This only seemed to amuse him. "I've been out of my protoform for about ten million vorns. I fail to be impressed." He paused. "A centivorn and a half? Is that all? Then you were Sparked a slave."

I didn't want to correct him. "I was Sparked after Axis."

Hurricane drooped even further. "A sparkling. And I'm supposed to teach you how to work in a trine…? The commander has a very cruel sense of humor." He sighed. "Everything's cruel now… the entire world is cruel."

"What…?"

"You wouldn't understand," Hurricane answered glumly.

* * *

The Stealth Unit's activities were pared down to a minimum, so I had plenty of time to work with my new wingmate. Starscream had taught me some maneuvers back in Iacon, so now it was simply a matter of testing them with Hurricane.

Hurricane and I weren't well-suited to each other. He wasn't hostile, but neither did he seem very interested in being my wingmate. I always felt out of place. It was plain that he didn't want just _any_ wingmates, he wanted his own.

I was no psychologist, but Hurricane was of a morbid turn of mind. His frequent references to death and his melancholy demeanor weren't lost to me, but I had to bear with his oddness. If Starscream and Thundercracker flew with Skywarp without murdering him, then I could surely adapt to working with Hurricane.

* * *

As if the endless preparations weren't enough, I discovered that the door that linked my quarters to Starscream's and his trine's was glitching and occasionally failed to close all the way. Rather than say anything, since Starscream didn't seem to have noticed, I didn't mention it. This way I could hear things that Starscream hadn't intended. Some of this I'd rather _not_ have heard—what had I expected from a trio of bondmates?—but I could always close the door manually to save myself some mental scarring.

But every so often, I caught words that weren't meant for my audios. My training with the Stealth Unit let me stand perfectly still and silent beside the slightly-open door, audios tuned to their finest.

"—should take him with you. It's important that he knows what's happening." That was Thundercracker, and Starscream's distinctive rasp answered him.

"He knows no more than every other common soldier."

I knew instinctively that they were talking about me.

"But he's _not_ a common soldier, Screamer." Skywarp, of course.

"Don't _call_ me that, and why shouldn't he be?"

"Because he's yours. Because he's—"

"I can't show favoritism. If he's seen to be getting help, the rest will never accept him. Let him prove himself. Until he does, I can't do anything for him."

"Starscream is right. If he earns his way, the rest will respect him." Thundercracker again. "But don't forget, Starscream, he _has_ proven himself competent. I know that you don't wish to help him, but that doesn't mean you should hinder him, either. Any other recruit with his potential would have gotten your attention by now. At least give him the opportunity. If he's anything like his creators, he deserves a command position."

"We'll see how he does in battle," Starscream allowed. "After that… we'll see."

The conversation ended and I retreated to my berth, sipping a cube as I sat. It warmed my Spark to know that Skywarp and Thundercracker believed in me, but I understood Starscream's logic. The best way to win respect from my comrades was to earn it through hard work. There were no shortcuts. Starscream had brought me here, and now I was on my own.

* * *

Several orns later, Starscream and his trine appeared in the Tower.

"Fall in," the red Seeker barked. I followed Hurricane to the Tower's base, lining up with the others in a pattern that was clearly well-rehearsed. As I had learned, Starscream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp were the Command Trine, those of the highest rank – in addition to being the Decepticons' leader, Starscream was his own Air Commander. The rest of us assembled in order based on our trine's rank. The specifics of this measurement were still a mystery to me; it seemed that the "Rainmakers" had been a higher-ranking trine and stood close to the front.

"Brethren," Starscream said, his voice amplified to reach all of us. "This orn we take back the city. Once we emerge from hiding, we will be at open war with our Autobot oppressors once more." He smirked coldly. "And this time we will succeed."

"A simultaneous attack from air and ground," Starscream continued, laying out the battle plan. "Our objective is to destroy the Autobot Headquarters in Kaon and rout the force stationed there. Once the primary objective has been accomplished, cause as much destruction to the Autobots as you see fit. Try not to destroy our own city."

Starscream paused, optics dimming. "Soundwave informs me that the others are ready. Decepticons…"

The anticipation sharpened, all optics on Starscream, every 'con waiting, absolutely still. Starscream relished it.

"…transform and rise up!"

The sounds of transformation and then of engines reverberated around the Tower, growing into a tumultuous roar. I locked onto Hurricane's energy signature as he'd taught me, ensuring that I wouldn't lose him in the chaos.

 _/Just follow me./_ Even Hurricane's signal was gloomy.

Lacking true optics in my alt-mode, I could only imagine the sight: Decepticons pouring from the secret entrances to our underground base, fliers exploding from hidden ways designed solely for their use, Seekers erupting from the Tower in a deadly swarm. Even in this form I could tell the difference between Autobot and Decepticon through signals in their energy signatures.

Hurricane's engines screamed like gale-force winds as we arrowed towards Autobot Headquarters. Below us there were brief smatterings of combat as Autobot patrols encountered more than they'd bargained for. The main force would be completely unprepared for our sudden assault.

I gave the Autobots credit: in the thirty kliks or so of warning they'd had, they were halfway prepared to fight. But halfway would not be enough.

 _/Open fire!/_ came Starscream's general command to his Seekers. I followed Hurricane exactly through a gyro-spinning attack run, firing as we went.

Just for a moment I wondered how many Autobots would offline in the collapse of the now-fiery structure. How many more Sparks would be extinguished? But I wouldn't see their faces fill with horror, their optics go dark, their bodies fade to grey. I wouldn't even hear their screams.

I couldn't think about that right now. I continued to fire on the building alongside the other Seekers and other flier models designed for firepower. The Autobots now had an idea of what we were up to and turned the automated cannons on us, trying to save their base. A Seeker nearby was hit and began to tumble from the sky; his wingmates dove to catch him.

 _/Follow me,/_ Hurricane signaled. He flew straight towards a cluster of the guns.

 _/Are you_ crazy _?!/_ I commed back, but he gave no answer. I followed him even so and we fired on the cannons together. A stray shot grazed my nosecone and I had to pull up. My wingmate didn't even pause to plan or reconsider as he screamed past again, straight into the line of fire.

I had no choice, so I followed again, relying on what Starscream had taught me, Primus, and luck. Two of the Autobots' guns were rendered nonfunctional. I caught the tail end of a faint transmission unconsciously sent by Hurricane. _/Acid Storm!/_

He made another pass, ignoring it when he was hit, this time broadcasting _/Sunstorm!/_

As he prepared for another run, I transformed and, lacking other options, grabbed his wings, pulling him back. _/What is_ wrong _with you?!/_ I demanded. _/Leave it! We're needed elsewhere!/_

Hurricane transformed and threw me off. _/You wouldn't understand!/_

_/This isn't the time. If you're going to attack those guns, at least do it so that we won't both get ripped to shreds!/_

_/Am I the commanding officer here or are you?/_

_/Our orders are to destroy the Autobot Headquarters, not get ourselves terminated by attacking blindly! Do you_ want _to die?!/_

 _/Yes!/_ He drew away. _/You wouldn't understand! Go blow up the building, for all I care!/_

_/I don't leave my trinemates. Now stop being stubborn and we can—/_

_/That's an order, cadet!/_

I didn't hesitate. _/One I have to disobey,_ sir _./_ I rocketed over his head, flipped over, and aimed a blow at the back of his neck as I had with Dent-Nose. It worked, especially now that Ramrod had taught me where to aim. Hurricane nearly fell from the sky, but I grabbed him beneath the arms and flew to where a greater concentration of Decepticons was gathered. I landed and shoved his limp frame at a clump of mechs. "He needs a medic." Then I took off again, heading back towards the Autobot base.

The Seekers didn't stop their attack until the building was well and truly demolished. Only then did I pay much attention to what was happening on the ground. There had been fairly even numbers to begin with, and fairly even numbers remained. But the tide was about to turn.

 _/Fliers, provide air support,/_ was the new order. Devoid of a trine to work with, I improvised. I stayed in bipedal mode for easier aim. I didn't want to gun down any of our own mechs. In some places there was enough space between combatants to see, but for the most part Autobots and Decepticons were tightly locked in battle.

Most upsetting to me were the unmoving heaps of grey metal. I thought of Undertaker and shivered. If Hurricane really had intentionally allowed himself to be terminated, he'd have fallen on the Autobot side. When we found him, he would have been only a stripped, wingless shell…

I lost count of the shots I fired, and at times I flew too fast to see how many mechs fell in my wake. Perhaps that was for the best. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I'd known exactly how many Autobots I'd killed. It all blurred into one long stream. Once a shot punched through my wing, barely missing the primary fuel line. I managed to remain airborne, and that was the only serious wound I sustained throughout the battle.

The Autobots fled after holding their position valiantly for two megacycles. They carried their wounded and as many of their dead as they could. I had the terrible certainty that, had we not been in such a state ourselves, Starscream would have had us run them down and slaughter them all. But many of our own were deactivated or injured.

I should have sought a medic, but instead I wandered between grey corpses, observing the dead and praying that I wouldn't find a familiar face – from either side – among them. Perhaps I was searching for survivors, though I wasn't sure what I would do if I found a living Autobot.

Sobbing drew my attention towards the body of a mech who looked vaguely familiar. I approached cautiously, raising an arm-rifle as I stepped around the shell. I saw yellow-green plating and my optics widened in surprised recognition. "You?"

Dent-Nose looked up and his face looked much the way I felt. "Y-you!" He scrabbled backwards on his aft, cowering against his terminated friend. "D-don't terminate me, p-please!"

"I'm not going to terminate you," I answered, lowering my arm-rifle and glancing around. Nobody else was nearby.

"Y-you're not?"

"Get off your aft," I said, reaching out to help. He jerked away, terrified.

"Don't t-touch me!"

I sighed and dropped my arms. "Get up," I repeated. He complied shakily.

"What are you going to d-do to me?"

"Nothing," I said. "The rest of the Autobots ran north. You should follow them before someone who won't be so merciful sees you."

Dent-Nose hesitated. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're not worth deactivating. Get running."

He turned and fled, stumbling and tripping but still making good time. I sighed, turning away… at least I'd never have to deal with him again.

* * *

The orange Seeker who I'd seen hit had offlined. His wingmates huddled together over his body-shell, their anguished keening making me shiver as I passed.

Even Starscream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp stood a bit closer together than usual, though they didn't do anything so tender as embrace each other.

"Where's Hurricane?" Skywarp asked.

"With a medic." _I think._ "Um, Starscream? Do you want to think again about pairing me with the _suicidal maniac?!_ "

Starscream arched an optic ridge. "No. Why?"

"Hurricane's mental state has been called into question before," Thundercracker reminded him. "The loss of his wingmates has been hard on him."

"We made at least five undefended attack runs on the Autobot cannons," I told them. "He's _trying_ to get killed, and I'm not too keen on the idea."

"Just stay alive, and sooner or later you won't have to worry about him anymore," Starscream unhelpfully advised.

I sighed and excused myself. Now that we held all of Kaon, mechs were already taking over the buildings, regenerating the old base. Unsure what to do or where to go, I instead returned to the underground facility, heading for the training grounds. No sooner had I entered than a familiar black hand seized my arm and pulled me back into the hall.

"Ramrod! I was looking for y—"

"Come with me," he interrupted, already tugging me down the hall. I'd never been in this area before, but from the looks of it, it was another barracks. Ramrod keyed open a door. His quarters were bare of personal items; a few cubes of energon were stacked beside one of the berths.

"I was looking for you," I finished as the door hissed shut.

"Me too," he answered quietly. There was a brief silence. Then, unexpectedly, Ramrod reached out to grab my shoulders. "Primus," he whispered. "I'm glad you're all right. I was getting worried."

He sounded shaken. I realized that it had been Ramrod's first battle too. It was easy to forget that, for all his prowess in training, he was actually younger than I. On the ground things must have been ten times worse than in the air. My job had been easy; down there, it must have been a different story entirely.

"I don't want them to see me like this… don't want them to think I'm vulnerable. But I trust you. I was scared out there, fragging _terrified_. It was… Primus, it was a nightmare. We could hardly tell who was who, couldn't tell anyone apart. It was like the Pit: everyone was shouting or screaming or dying…"

"But you made it," I said. "You got through it."

"It was horrible."

What would Optimus say? I always felt awkward in the face of someone else's emotions. Finally I settled on, "I know."

He sighed, shook his head, and looked up with brighter optics than before. "I'll be fine," he said, sounding more like his usual self. "It was just a shock. Some recharge and I'll be fine. Hey, get some help for that wing, it looks painful."

I'd completely forgotten, though now that Ramrod mentioned it, I could feel the ache spreading from the wound. I nodded, bade him farewell, and began to leave.

"Hey, Nova?" Ramrod called. I paused, looking back. "Thanks for listening. It... helps." His smile turned into an embarrassed grin. "Primus, now I'm sounding mushy..."

"Anytime," I answered, glad that he was in better spirits. Something nagged at me, something I had to thank Ramrod for... oh. Hurricane.

Something in my face must have tipped him off, for he tilted his head. "What's wrong?"

"I, ah, well..." I explained about my confrontation with Hurricane. He snickered, then grew serious.

"I hope Hurricane's in a better mood when he wakes up," he said. "And that Starscream's happy with what you did today... otherwise, well, you _did_ attack a commanding officer."

"I hadn't looked at it like that."

Ramrod shrugged. "Well. Whatever that nut says, I'll back you up, Nova."

"Thanks. But it'll be all right." _I hope._


	15. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's because Starscream is afraid of you.

The Decepticons busied themselves with relocating to the surface. Since most of the city had been destroyed, there were few structures to move back into. Besides, we had more important matters to take care of, such as caring for our wounded. There was a shortage in both medics and supplies, leaving us to improvise as well as we could. Thundercracker played medic for me, doing a temporary patch-job on my wing. It wasn't much, but it would protect the damaged area until my self-repair systems healed the wound on their own.

Hurricane, as it turned out, was _not_ in a better mood when he awoke. I was summoned to the Tower the moment I was off of medbay duty – without a doubt the worst assignment I had ever received. The "medbay" was in a constant state of chaos, since nobody seemed exactly sure what to do for the wounded. I was glad to get out of there, even though I knew that I was heading for punishment.

Starscream was there, looking harried and stressed. I could hear the agitation in his voice when he snapped, "Designation and function, soldier."

_As if you didn't know._ "Nova, Rainmaker second, Decepticon warrior."

Hurricane snorted from where he stood, glaring at me with his arms crossed over his chest. "You're undeserving of either title."

"Enough," Starscream snapped. "What's so important that it could possibly merit my attention? I have far more urgent issues to attend to."

"This walking malfunction attacked me," Hurricane accused.

"Only to keep you from getting both of us killed," I answered, bristling. "At least I'm not cowardly enough to run away from a fight through suicide…"

"We are already discussing your punishment without you making it worse," my wingmate hissed. He turned back to Starscream. "He attacked a commanding officer, which constitutes treason – as well you know – and he should be dealt with accordingly."

"I saved your life, you—"

"Be silent!" Starscream commanded. "His actions were intended to save you from yourself, Trineleader, and in this he was successful. Therefore the only offense I see is disobeying orders."

"Only? _Only?!_ " Hurricane spat. "While it may not matter to you, _sir_ , to everyone else in this army insubordination is a serious offense. We can't all get off as easily as _some_."

"Mind your words," Starscream snarled, narrowing his optics. "But you're right. Insubordination is a virus that must be crushed before it spreads. A shift of the usual, then."

Hurricane, who had looked ready to erupt, visibly balked. "A… an entire shift, Commander? Isn't that a bit much, sir?"

"You said it yourself, Trineleader. He can't get off easily, can he?"

He took off and vanished from sight beyond the Tower's rim. Hurricane, his ire turned to bewilderment, faced me. For a moment he seemed lost for words, but he gestured for me to follow. I trailed him nervously. Many of the mechs we passed greeted me or congratulated me on my performance in battle. I knew many of them by designation and even more by sight.

Hurricane finally stopped at the training grounds – specifically, at one side of the training grounds, near one of the entrances.

"Stand with your back to the wall," he ordered. I obeyed, growing more anxious by the klik. "Spread out your arms."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

I hesitated, but complied. I had expected consequences. Starscream wouldn't have allowed this if it were life-threatening, so I shouldn't fear for my Spark.

I began to have second thoughts about this conclusion when Hurricane used the ominous, paint-streaked chains hanging from the wall to bind each of my wrists. "You're lucky we don't get acid rain anymore," he muttered. "They used to do this outside… almost lost some mechs to it then. As far as I know no one's ever been terminated like this."

"As far as you _know_?"

He dug about in a wall compartment for a vocal inhibitor. This he fastened over my face. "I'll be back in five megacycles. Good luck."

And then he was gone, leaving me to stand at the wall. I leaned against it, taking some strain off of my landing struts. They didn't hurt yet, but after five megacycles, they would ache from being locked into place for so long.

It seemed this punishment was to be more psychological than physical. Just being in this position made me burn in humiliation, and then there were the mechs who looked at me as they passed into and out of the training grounds, one of the most crowded areas of the entire base. Some were sympathetic, but others snickered and nudged their friends to make sure they noticed me.

Thirty cycles ticked slowly past on my chronometer. Then a pair of mechs approached, grinning.

"I know you," one of them chortled. "You're that Autobrat who gets to stay in Megatron's quarters."

_Megatron's quarters?_

"Looks like Starscream's little favorite isn't so favored anymore," the other added.

If that had been Starscream's intention, well, it looked like it was working. My sneer lost some of its force because my mouth was hidden, but I glared at them as though I could melt them with my optics alone.

"Looks like you've learned your place," the first mech said, lifting a hand and scraping his claws down my wing. I jerked in the chains, but I could barely move. It hurt like the Pit.

It seemed that this psychological punishment could very quickly turn physical as well.

The second mech gripped the very tip of my other wing. I flinched and tried to twitch the sensitive appendage away, but he held fast, grinning.

"What's wrong?" he asked, pinching maliciously. "Don't you like that?"

"I don't think he does," his companion answered with a leer. "Poor little Seeker. How will you learn your lesson if we don't help it stick?"

This time he dragged his claws across my cockpit, dragging out an audio-splitting screech from the glass. My helm clacked loudly against the wall as I struggled. Wasn't anyone watching? Didn't anyone care?!

There was a yelp from one of the Decepticons. The pain subsided and I onlined my optics in time to see the first mech hit the floor hard. Ramrod flipped the second over his hip and the stranger landed on top of his companion.

"What's the matter?" the red mech asked cheerfully. "Don't like picking on someone who can fight back?" Ramrod placed a foot on the top mech's chest, resting his arms – and his weight – on his knee. The two flailed uselessly. "No? Then why don't you run along and play somewhere else?"

The two mechs fled the moment he released them. He turned to me with a mischievous grin. "Hey there, Nova."

I hoped I could express gratitude through optics alone.

"Looks like he wasn't happy. Ah, well, it happens to all of us." He offered up his comm signal and I opened a link.

_/Thank you./_

"Don't mention it. So, how long are you here for?"

_/About 4.743 more megacycles./_

"That long?" Ramrod's expression darkened. Then he was cheerful again. "Well, it just so happens that I have this shift off. I'll be your knight in shining armor. You won't have to worry about glitches like those anymore." He grinned wickedly. "After all, we wouldn't want anyone taking advantage of that cute little helpless pose and doing impure things to you… unless that's how you like it, of course."

_/Shut up, slagger!/_ Safely hidden under the inhibitor, my faceplates burned.

"Mm, you didn't strike me as the type anyway."

I refrained from asking what type I _did_ strike him as.

"So what did you do to annoy the Screaming One?" he asked.

_/Nothing. He's hardly spoken to me in the past few orbits, with all that's been going on./_

I missed that. I knew Starscream was busy, but I missed the way we had been in Iacon, when we had all the time in the world and we could actually talk. But I had neither fully appreciated the opportunity to speak with him until it was gone.

Ramrod nodded slowly, then glanced around and switched to internal comm.

_/This is completely unfair, do you realize that?/_

_/What do you mean?/_

_/This. Normally a mech gets on the wall for a megacycle, maybe two, three for the worst offenses. Never this long. So, why do you think you're being punished like this?/_

_/Because… I… disobeyed orders./_

_/Wrong. It's because Starscream is afraid of you./_

I goggled at him. _/What?/_

_/You make him nervous, Nova. The Decepticons like you. You're more popular than you realize./_

_/So? What has that got to do with anything?/_

_/Starscream is already in a precarious position. Mechs don't like him… they don't trust him. Not everyone accepts him as their leader./_

_/Why not? It's his role by right. He was Megatron's second./_

_/I don't know. It's something that goes back to before I was here… before Axis. I don't know what it's all about, but the fact remains that there's a lot of mechs who'd like to serve someone else./_

_/And he knows all this. But why take it out on me? You're popular. Skywarp's popular. There are plenty of mechs who are well-liked. Why isn't he worried about them?/_

_/Because there's something more about you./_

_/What is it?/_

_/I don't know. But you're a threat to him, Nova, understand? And if you were to challenge him—/_

_/What?!/_

_/—there's a lot of mechs who would support you./_

_/Why? I'm nothing special. So I won a few fights, but…/_

_/Megatron started out as a gladiator, too./_

Echoes of an overheard conversation in Prime's office rang out from my memory.

_I won't let you turn him into another Megatron._

_He was Sparked that way._

_/But_ I'm not Megatron! _/_

_/I don't know, Nova. You look like every other Seeker to me. But to the others, there's something about you that makes them stare at you._ That's _what Starscream is afraid of./_

I collected my wildly reeling thoughts. _/Starscream is the leader. He's kept us together for this long, and he's more capable than most mechs could ever hope to be./_

_/I just thought you should know./_ He spoke aloud. "Okay. I spy with my little optic… something beginning with 'g'…"

* * *

It turned out that five megacycles of standing gagged and chained to a wall were far more interesting than five megacycles of monitor duty. By the time Hurricane came to release me, I'd accumulated a gaggle of protectors, members of the Stealth Units or mechs I'd faced in the arena, friends of mine and Ramrod's who chattered away as though I weren't pinned in such an awkward position. They turned the whole thing into a glorious joke rather than a punishment.

I'd had ample opportunity to think on what Ramrod had told me. I searched mechs' faces and words for signs of discontent with Starscream's leadership. Now that I knew what I was looking for, I was amazed at how much I found. For some reason my discovery upset me, so I resolved to come to my own conclusions. As soon as I was free, I extricated myself from the crowd and stole away to the cool darkness of the Archives.

The Archivist glided up silently, his optics glowing like twin red moons. "Nova, isn't it?" he said softly. "I thought I might be seeing you."

He raised a companionable arm as I fell into step beside him, but did not touch me. "You're searching for something," he said, already guiding me towards the Hall of Memory even before I had told him where I wanted to go.

"I'm looking for someone's memory. Someone who has seen Megatron and Starscream together."

"Ah, I thought so. Soundwave, then."

"Soundwave?" I asked as he pushed me gently down before a console. "But he's still online. I thought you said—"

"Soundwave is the exception. His impressive control over his own mind dictates which memories others are permitted to view." With deft hands he linked me into the console. His voice now sounded distant, although I felt his presence more intensely through our shared connection to the database. "I will assist you. You're searching for Starscream and Megatron… like your own memory, if you concentrate on those two you will find them. From there it should be easy. Soundwave's memories are so very organized."

The sensation was like floating, leaving myself behind and drifting into someone else's memory files. It was unsettling, but the Archivist acted as my anchor and my guide, keeping me connected to my own body as I grew used to the feeling. I concentrated, drawing on my own memories of Starscream and the secondhand memories of Megatron that I had accumulated. Soon enough Soundwave's memory bank registered what I was looking for and brought up a flood of memories to peruse at my leisure.

They shared a twisted camaraderie and a strange enmity. At times the two of them could be civil, even friendly towards each other, but these moments were rare and confusing. The rest of the time they were explosive in their conflicts. Whenever they met, they quarreled; when they quarreled, they fought physically more often than not. It was inevitable that Megatron won, being larger and stronger. Sometimes Starscream was right; others, Megatron. They rarely agreed on anything, down to the most insignificant detail.

There were times when Megatron, without warning or simply at the slightest provocation, would turn on his second-in-command and flay him half into stasis lock. But for each of these attacks was an assassination attempt by Starscream: poisoned energon, explosives, even a casual shot to the back – there was no method to kill a mech that Starscream did not attempt.

Soundwave looked on without judgment, leaving me to form my conclusions freely. Each mech was vicious, cunning, power-hungry, arrogant, and unstable. Yet somehow, through all of their fighting and apparent hatred of each other, they made the Decepticons great… one without the other could not.

And now only Starscream remained, having finally achieved his goal of leading the Decepticons… but he was only half of the equation. For better or for worse?

When I disconnected from the console, a rush of dizziness struck me. The Archivist's hands steadied me and offered an energon cube.

"It can be disorienting the first time," he said. I drank the energon gratefully. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"The Decepticons don't trust Starscream because he hated Megatron," I said. Ramrod hadn't known because he hadn't even been Sparked until after Axis.

The Archivist nodded. "Quite so. Starscream is as capable a leader as Megatron ever was, but he is not Megatron. Hold out your hands, Nova. I have a gift for you."

The abrupt change in subject caught me by surprise. I held out my hands obediently and the Archivist laid twin long, silver swords in my palms. They were beautiful, but I looked up at him oddly.

"I already have weapons. Swords are outdated, archaic. I don't need these."

"Look closer."

I did, and felt a stab of recognition. I had just seen Megatron wield these. "Why?"

"Because they will help you. When you're too close for guns and too far for claws, _then_ what do you use? When these 'archaic' and 'outdated' weapons save your chassis, _then_ you'll appreciate them."

He took one of the swords and circled around me. "Hmm, let's see. Starscream hid them… here."

He pressed the blade lengthwise along the base of my wing. Automatically, my plating and wiring shifted to accommodate it, disguising the weapon as part of my wing. I put the other one to my other wing. The swords were hidden in plain sight, perfectly matching my plating.

Just in time. The door slid open and Starscream entered – I didn't know why, but I was glad that Megatron's weapons were concealed.

"Nova," he said. "I've been looking for you. It's late."

I checked my chronometer to find that I'd been in here for megacycles. I'd completely lost track of the time.

I bade the Archivist farewell and followed Starscream from the Archives. I walked behind him, pondering what I'd seen, but I didn't want to mention it to him.

"Why did you put me in Megatron's quarters?" I asked, suddenly remembering..

"For convenience. I wanted you near me. Besides, it's not like the previous occupant will be returning." He hesitated. "Nova… tomorrow, I'd like for you to accompany me to the command center. We'll be planning our next move, and it would be valuable for you to know what we're doing."

I remembered the conversation I'd overheard between Starscream and his wingmates. It seemed that Starscream had decided that he could afford to give me the opportunity. The knowledge that he trusted me made me flutter my wings happily.

"Are you injured?" Starscream asked suddenly.

"No. Why?"

"No reason."

He didn't look at me, just continued to walk. As I watched him, the realization came to me: he'd been worried about me. He must have known that mechs would take advantage of my punishment.

What Ramrod had said may be true. Perhaps Starscream was nervous that I would undermine him. But he was still my creator, and I was still his sparkling. Starscream's affection was hidden, but it was there.

Rather than follow in Starscream's footsteps, I drew up to walk alongside him. He glanced at me, then away, accepting; I smiled to myself.


	16. Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Were we really fighting to free the Decepticons from slavery, or were we fighting to destroy the Autobots? Megatron had started with the best intentions, too.

Thundercracker accompanied Starscream and me to the command center, but not Skywarp. He didn't strike me as the type who could remain still for long enough.

_/Just keep quiet unless I tell you otherwise,/_ Starscream advised as we entered. There were already several mechs inside. Soundwave and Shockwave I recognized, but not the others. Starscream pointed them out silently. The first was a mid-sized cycle with burnished gold plating. _/Trannis. One of the few competent generals left from Megatron's time./_ He pointed out three mechs seated all in a row. One was blue and white, one red and blue, the third orange. _/Legonis, Seizer, and Octus. Each lazier and more arrogant than the last. They don't have much power, since they've just elbowed their way in since Axis./_ The next mech was a shuttle-type. _/Skystalker. Don't listen to a word that he says. He's not to be trusted./_

_/Are any of them trustworthy?/_

_/Everyone in this room has put his own interests before the cause at some point. Except perhaps Soundwave./_

He went on to introduce the final two. One was a green-and-black Seeker. _/Thunderwing, trineless… and Flamewar./_ He shot me a sly grin. _/That's a femme, not a mech, by the way./_

_/Shut_ up! _I know she's a femme!/_

It was hard to miss. Flamewar's curvy frame was more exaggerated than Apis's.

_/Watch out for her. A talented general, but very much… enamored of Megatron./_

_/So?/_

_/Just be careful./_

He took a seat in the vacant position around the table. Thundercracker and I stood behind him. By now I was used to the curious optics that turned my way and I could detect the underlying emotions in each examination: frightened and greedy, in the case of Skystalker and the three smaller mechs; coolly considering from Thunderwing and Trannis; appreciative from Flamewar.

"Well?" Starscream said. "Report."

"The medical situation is dire, Lord Starscream," Thunderwing spoke up. Starscream didn't even look at him. Since Thunderwing was trineless, he was essentially an outcast from Seeker society. "There are too few mechs with the proper training to repair all of our injured, and we're still short on supplies."

"There's been no word of the Constructicons?" Starscream asked. The question was addressed to Soundwave.

"Negative. Time of escape: two point six five decavorns ago. Current location: unknown."

"Then we need to make do with what we have. We need more soldiers. As it stands, the Autobots could overwhelm us in a direct assault on Kaon. We need to strike first."

"If I may, Lord Starscream?" I recognized Shockwave's clipped accent. "Rebellions have gone as planned in five city-states. More mechs may be expected as soon as they reach Kaon. There is a problem: a massing Autobot force in Tarn has blocked many of our potential reinforcements."

"Then we take Tarn now, while they're still gathering their army."

"Now, when we're still recovering?" Octus objected.

"It's either that or wait until they are fully prepared for an attack," Trannis pointed out. "If we can coordinate with the mechs who have been cut off, we can attack from both sides." He nodded to Starscream. "Particularly if your aerial troops can bring them weapons."

"The factory slaves in Tarn are already in revolt," Flamewar added. "More mechs and more supplies in one stroke."

"How many Autobots are in Tarn?" asked Starscream, optics dimmed in thought.

"Reports indicate close to a thousand, with several hundred expected to arrive each orn."

"And which of ours are on the other side?"

"Groups from Iacon, Simfur, and Polyhex."

Starscream smirked. "Perfect. Retaking Tarn should not be much of a problem."

"Not a problem?" Seizer exclaimed. "Our already-ragged force and some bands of escaped slaves against the Autobots?"

"Some of our best warriors will be with us," Starscream answered.

"Interruption: Regarding rumors surrounding leadership of Autobots in question."

"Report later, Soundwave, I will deal with that personally."

"Affirmative."

I lapped it all up attentively, gaining clues both from what was said and unsaid. By the time we were finished, I knew that Legonis, Octus, and Seizer were harmless, if annoying. Skystalker was similarly irritating, but he could be a threat unless kept on a short leash. Flamewar was a shrewd tactician, and not just where battle was concerned – she maneuvered skillfully through the subtle power struggles that pervaded the conversation. Thunderwing was quiet and unassuming, but I had the feeling that danger lurked somewhere within him. Trannis seemed uninterested in the petty politics surrounding most of the others. Though he was considerably younger than the rest, he had earned their respect on the battlefield.

Soundwave and Shockwave I'd encountered before. They held true power – the others all tread carefully around them, even Starscream. He saw them as a potential threat, but recognized their value.

After the meeting was adjourned, Starscream and Thundercracker remained in the command center. I left, planning to go to the Hall of Memory and watch Megatron during his vorns as a gladiator. It would be an asset in battle, whether I was fighting Autobots or sparring with my comrades.

I noticed an energy signature following me and turned to see Flamewar close at hand.

"Was there something you needed, General?"

She smiled, slinking closer – there was no other way to describe her graceful movements. "Perhaps." I wasn't entirely comfortable with the way that she was looking at me, as though she was trying to get into my circuitry with her optics. I wasn't so naïve that I didn't recognize exactly what she wanted. "You look familiar. Have we met somewhere before?"

I would certainly have remembered someone like this. "No, General."

"Please, just Flamewar… to you." Her optics dimmed slightly. "You bear a striking resemblance to… someone I used to know."

"Who?"

"Hmm." She pretended to ponder – I knew she was pretending because Starscream acted this way all the time. "I can't quite put my finger on it."

Flamewar moved even closer and I shied away. In everything that Ramrod had taught me about the Decepticon way, he'd never mentioned what to do when an officer was flirting with me. "So," she purred. "Are you doing anything later?"

"What? I, ah…"

Not a moment too soon, a red-plated arm slung around my shoulders, dragging me closer to Ramrod.

"Yes, actually, he is," the groundbound mech answered for me, staring back at Flamewar as though daring her to argue with him. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Annoyance flitted across her face, but it was gone in a moment. She smiled at me again. "Well, Nova, I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon, hmm?"

I made a vague sound of agreement and she brushed past, vanishing around the next corner.

"How do you do it?" I asked, prying Ramrod's arm from my shoulders.

"Do what?"

"Every time I'm in trouble, you always show up."

"I told you, I'm your knight in shining armor."

"What does that even mean?"

"It's a human phrase," he answered with a lopsided grin. "It means I'll always be around when you need me."

Heat rose in my faceplates. "You realize who that was, don't you?"

"General Flamewar. General or not, the only one who gets to flirt with you is me, understand?"

"Right," I laughed, trying to slide past him. With ease born from vorns of fighting, he grabbed me and slammed me into the wall, positioning his hands firmly on my wings to effectively pin me there.

"You think I'm joking?" I stared at him, all-too-conscious of the tingles through my sensory network. "I'm not."

"Ramrod—"

"I wasn't finished."

He shifted closer and I tried to draw back into the wall. "This isn't funny."

"I told you, I'm not joking," he answered quietly.

"Ramrod—"

"Don't you ever shut up?" Ramrod snarled in annoyance, right before he renewed his weight on my wings and leaned in to press his mouthplates against mine.

I didn't short out this time, though for a klik I felt like I was going to. Instead my energy field went berserk, flaring and spiking. Only after he pulled away did I demand an explanation.

"What was that?"

"It's called a kiss."

"I know what a kiss is, slagger. Why?"

"Because I felt like it." Ramrod grinned in a way that made my fuel pump stutter. "I know you liked it, or was your energy field going nuts for some other reason just now?" His fingers traced idle glyphs on my wings.

"I… There's not much I can offer you," I said. After all, I had a small orange cyclefemme waiting for me in a dusty Neutral town.

"Lifetime companionship isn't the Decepticon style. That's too much commitment for a mech like me. It doesn't have to change anything between us, Nova. We'd just be… a little closer."

I had to be careful about getting into any sort of relationship with a Decepticon. We weren't exactly known for loyalty. Besides, we were in a war. Why get close to anyone when we could be separated in an orn?

"There's a war going," Ramrod said, echoing my thoughts. "Either of us could be terminated anytime." He grinned, bumping our olfactory ridges together. "And I'd hate for you to die a virgin."

"Sometimes I think the Pit's too good for you," I laughed, shoving him.

"I don't hear you disagreeing," he purred.

"Yeah, fine," I said, trying to sound offhand. It was painfully obvious that each of us was more nervous than we showed. "If you're that desperate."

"Great!" he answered, momentarily relieved. Then he regained his cool demeanor, moving to trail a hand suggestively across my canopy.

"So," he purred. "You doing anything later?"

* * *

We ended up sprawled out on his recharge berth (I didn't want to risk any of the trine walking in on us, they'd rib me mercilessly for orbits), draped gracelessly on and around each other.

Ramrod's engine purred in content as he shifted to run a finger down the seam going from my optic to my jaw. I smiled weakly, exhausted.

"Tired you out," he teased. "And for a Seeker, that's saying something. I mean, I knew I was good, but…" I smacked him. "So, what do you think? Worth repeating?"

"Hmm, definitely." Oh, _definitely_. My entire sensory network still tingled.

"That's good to hear. I wouldn't mind an encore either."

* * *

The Decepticon army moved out to Tarn. Hurricane and I were among the fliers who would assist the escaped slaves on the other side of the Autobot force. This time, the Autobots were organized and more numerous, and though our initial strike took them by surprise, they were ready for us by the time I arrived.

_/I will take you out of the battle again_ _if you do anything rash,/_ I warned my wingmate.

_/I believe you. We'll attack alongside Crosswind's trine. Be on the lookout for Autobot cannons./_

These Autobots were far better-prepared for an aerial assault than those in Kaon had been. I picked up some tricks on the fly, some from potentially painful near-experiences, others from watching the rest of the fliers.

But even all the skill in the world isn't enough, at times. I followed Hurricane, who followed Crosswind, and we ended up under heavy fire.

_/Pull out and regroup,/_ came Crosswind's call, and I moved to obey.

The shot struck me with the force of a charging truck, punching through my left wing and knocking me clear out of formation. Hurricane transformed and dove to catch me, but a second shot sent him reeling back and I plummeted towards the unforgiving ground, struggling to even out or regain altitude.

I transformed just before hitting the ground, landing awkwardly. I heard something crack as I struck metal, rolling and bouncing with my momentum until I finally settled, propped partially off the ground by one horribly bent wing.

The pain hit a moment later and I screamed, arching and twisting to get my weight off of the damaged wing. Agony seared through my leg and I fell back into my previous position, keening. I couldn't escape, couldn't sit up, couldn't even turn over.

A heavy foot came down on my torso, shattering my canopy and pressing me down to the ground. The metal of my wing screeched as it was bent further out of shape. I moaned and focused on the Autobot standing on me. The glare of his wicked-looking energon lance, which was positioned just above my chest, washed out his features but for his glowing blue optics. He had a chuckle at my helplessness, wedging his lance into the seam of my chestplates and levering sideways, prying them apart. I made a strangled sound, trying to reach up as the glow of my Spark appeared, but the glowing tip of his lance pressed against my transparent Spark chamber and my arm clanged back to the ground.

"Any last words?" he asked, triumph in his voice and optics as he leaned down, grinning. I could only stare, terror making my Spark pulse madly. The Autobot could see it, if the widening of his grin was any indication. "Enjoy the Pit, and I'll have your wings mounted on my wall tonight."

He lifted the lance, readying for the final blow – an energon lance would shatter my Spark chamber and go right through with the strength he would put into it – and I couldn't even shutter my optics.

I think my life should have flashed before my optics at this point. What actually did flash before my optics was large and purple and successfully knocked the Autobot off me. There was a gurgling scream. I whined softly and shifted, but that only sent agony through my entire system. And then a single red optic appeared above me and clumsy hands moved beneath me, thick pincers picking me up without exacerbating anything. A burst of garbled static gave me the last clue.

"Lug…nut?" I croaked. He made another indistinct sound, then took off… no, he didn't take off, only leapt out of immediate danger. I didn't need him to tell me to shut down; my system had already plunged me into stasis lock.

* * *

I was surprised not to see the medbay when I onlined – pleasantly surprised. I didn't relish the idea of undergoing repairs in the mess of a medbay. I was on my own berth, safe in my quarters. I looked around for an explanation and found Starscream.

"Don't even think about sitting up," he said. "Give it another orn or so. I repaired you… much better than those morons in the repair bay would have, I have to say."

"How long was I offline? What happened?"

"It took me a few orns to make the repairs. We're making headway in Tarn. Lugnut brought you back here." He pulled a face. "Now I owe him. It took some convincing to get him out of here – he was fretting over you and making a general nuisance of himself."

"He seems quite taken with me."

"You have no idea." He stood. "Rest and be back on your landing struts by tomorrow. The Autobots will attack and try to push us back, but luckily I now have a more competent general to work with."

* * *

Starscream's repairs had me active when he'd promised. I was pleased when he invited me back to the command center to attend another meeting. I'd thought everyone was present when a huge shape pressed in through the door and approached with heavy footsteps. The new mech was easily as large as Steelcrusher, perhaps even larger.

"Lord Starscream," it said in a heavily accented voice through an unmoving mask of a face. The voice startled me. This monster was a _femme_?! "It vas my understanding that a seat vould be held for me upon my return."

"So it has been," Starscream answered. He waved towards Legonis, Octus, and Seizer. "If you would kindly eject the present occupants, we can get started."

The three smaller mechs sputtered in outrage.

"We belong here!" Seizer protested.

"You think so? I can't think of one useful contribution that the three of you have made to the Decepticon cause…" Starscream paused, a claw tapping on the table. "…unless you consider endless complaints and cowardice as useful."

"Gentlemechs, if you vould?" the femme said, a tone of definite menace underscoring her words. The three mechs scrambled up and made their retreat. Legonis paused at the door.

"You'll regret this, Starscream! Just wait and see, you'll—"

There was the sound of firing lasers and he crumpled, the remnants of his face twisted, the rest smoking.

"I do not suffer fools," Starscream hissed, lowering his arm. "And it's _Lord_ Starscream."

The moment the other two had dragged Legonis's frame out, things proceeded as if nothing had happened.

"General Stryka, welcome back. Soundwave, report."

* * *

The capture of Tarn took another two orbits. The Autobots tried pushing us back, but not before we'd had time to shore up our defenses. We could now afford to defend the perimeter, with more mechs trickling in from around the planet each orn.

Starscream was planning to take Polyhex, then Simfur. Iacon was still too ambitious a target. In Polyhex, we encountered real trouble for the first time: an Autobot force that could take some time to defeat.

Hurricane and I picked up an impromptu third: Lugnut shadowed me during each battle. We endured his presence, since he didn't interfere with our maneuvers, and he was useful besides – a group of Autobots that would have taken us breems to wipe out could be destroyed in mere kliks by Lugnut's powerful missiles.

"He's so protective of you," Hurricane mentioned.

"I noticed," I answered dryly, glancing over my shoulder to see Lugnut following several astrometers behind us.

Hurricane laughed (an unusual occurrence, for him). "It must be because you look so much like Megatron. Lugnut was obsessed with him."

I stopped. "What?"

"What, you never noticed how everyone stares at you?"

"Of course I noticed. What do you mean, I look like Megatron?"

"The color scheme, the face… if you weren't a Seeker you'd be his spitting image. Didn't anyone ever tell you?"

"No," I said quietly, thinking of Starscream. "No, they didn't."

* * *

In the skies over Polyhex, Hurricane first commed me with a soon-familiar order: _/Nova, take point./_

It was easier to reign in Hurricane's suicidal tendencies when he followed my lead. The shift in power did not go unnoticed; Starscream mentioned it when Hurricane and I returned to Kaon for a few orns' leave. Only then did I realize the significance of the order: I'd gotten my first command position, even if it was only over two mechs.

"Some mechs just aren't programmed to lead," Starscream said, giving me a smirk that I recognized as proud. "He's used to being a third, after all. Congratulations, Trineleader."

* * *

Among my least favorite assignments was what we called "clean-up." After battle, we combed each sector for survivors, Decepticon or Autobot. The savage actions of my comrades when they discovered a straggling Autobot were distasteful to me. I could take no satisfaction in terminating a mech who was no longer a threat. I preferred to capture the defeated Autobots rather than destroy them.

I had been trineleader for four decacycles when the Decepticons captured Polyhex's sixth sector. I made my way through a half-demolished tower floor by floor, finding only empty rooms and deactivated shells. I found an energon store and commed to inform General Trannis, under whose command my trine had been placed. That was good—he was a mech who rewarded success on the battlefield. The effectiveness of my non-standard trine would see me moving up the ranks in no time.

Just as I turned to leave the storeroom and continue my search, I heard something and paused, scanning the room again. Mass quantities of energon had a way of interfering with a mech's energy signature; if I picked a place to hide, it would be here, among the energon cubes.

Keeping my audios tuned to their finest, I moved into the storage room. The sound came again – not much, just a shift of metal on metal, but enough for my sensitive audios.

I rounded the last corner, arm-guns aimed and ready… but I found not a battle-ready enemy, only a small femme, the Autobot insignia blatant on her chest. She held a tiny sparkling that couldn't have been older than five vorns or so. She clutched it closer to her, trying to shield it, but said nothing. Although her optics were full of fear, she didn't attempt to beg.

I hesitated, lowering my arms. I couldn't do this.

"I won't hurt you," I said. "There's a team coming to get this energon soon. You won't be safe here. Get out now, while you still can."

I turned to check the door.

"Why are you doing this?" the Autobot asked suspiciously. "You're a Decepticon."

"Yes," I answered. "I know."

I left her to ponder that and continued my sweep of the area.

* * *

Through experience and hard practice, I improved my performance on the battlefield. I flew with Lugnut and Hurricane every day, tightening our maneuvers and testing our aim. When I wasn't in battle or training with the trine, I was back in the training grounds in Kaon. I pushed myself to become faster, stronger, tougher.

Growing into a better fighter was the best way to distract myself from the reality of the war. Were we really fighting to free the Decepticons from slavery, or were we fighting to destroy the Autobots? Megatron had started with the best intentions, too.

Trannis was so pleased by my achievements in Polyhex that he gave me command of several trines besides my own, promoting me to Wingleader. Starscream continued to bring me to the command meetings, and though I had not yet been asked for my opinion, I continued to absorb the goings-on.

Polyhex was not easy to take. Every time it seemed that the Decepticons had made progress, the Autobots would push back. As a result, it took several vorns to break through the Autobot defenses. With Polyhex came captured energon mines, somewhat easing the strain on our supplies.

"According to Soundwave's information network," Starscream told me, "Simfur is weak. It won't be like Polyhex."

The command staff met a few decacycles into Simfur to plan. Halfway through Skystalker's report, however, Starscream interrupted.

"Skystalker… get out."

"M-my lord?" the shuttle stammered.

"I'm tired of your incompetence. Do you wish to end up like Legonis? Be grateful that I, unlike Megatron, am willing to be merciful."

Skystalker left as quickly as his landing struts would carry him. There was a moment's silence.

Flamewar broke it. " _Finally_. If you hadn't done it, one of us would have."

"There is still the question of Skystalker's replacement," Shockwave began.

"Commander," Trannis said. "It seems a convenient moment to nominate Wingleader Nova as my lieutenant."

"Convenient indeed," Starscream said, like he'd been planning this.

I had to process it for a few kliks. As a lieutenant, I had the right to speak in the command meeting, without the full powers of a true General. I expected someone to argue, but no one did—they all knew Trannis never promoted anyone without merit.

I eyed Skystalker's empty chair. If I held this course, that seat could be mine soon, and I would have real power. I could finally take control of the war I had helped Starscream to unleash, and make sure that we were fighting for the right reasons.

* * *

I was with Starscream in the temporary forward command center when the Emirate of Simfur appeared on the holoscreen.

"Commander Starscream," he said. "I am Rimspin, Emirate of—"

"I know who you are," Starscream said. "All I want from you is unconditional surrender, or this city and all of its Autobot inhabitants will be destroyed."

"We… we will surrender," Rimspin croaked, obviously terrified. "But Simfur is a place of learning and study… there is nothing of value to you here. All we ask is to continue our work… we'll promise neutrality, anything you want, but we won't become slaves."

"Didn't I say unconditional?" Starscream hissed. The Autobot's blue optics paled.

"But our schools, our nurseries! What of our sparklings?"

"And what of _ours_?" Starscream snapped. "The protoforms destroyed after Axis, when the Autobots made their _glorious_ return to Cybertron?" He laughed bitterly. "You should have surrendered when you had the chance."

"But we _do_ surrend—"

Starscream cut the communication link and the holoscreen went blank. "Soundwave, have all Decepticons fall back. We're going to obliterate this entire miserable city. It's worth nothing to us."

"Starscream!" I burst out, unable to keep my silence any longer. "He said that they will surrender. There's no need for this!"

"You wouldn't understand what the Autobots have done to deserve this," my creator hissed back.

"What's the point? This won't help the Decepticons gain their freedom!"

"It will teach the Autobots a lesson," he snarled. "Don't question my orders."

I stood and watched as Simfur vanished in a ball of flame.

* * *

"Iacon is still too well-defended for us to take."

The command team had met to discuss our next move. Thunderwing had expressed his concern over the bombing of Simfur, as had Stryka, but Starscream had ignored them. Skywarp was here, for once, fidgeting alongside Thundercracker.

"In that case," Starscream continued, "we should turn our sights to another nearby city-state. Altihex is relatively undefended, since the Autobots anticipated our northward press to culminate in Iacon." He smiled. "And if they do put up a fight… well, one more like Simfur would be an effective demonstration."

The full meaning of his words hit me and after a moment of staring at him, checking that my audios hadn't malfunctioned, I asserted myself. "No… no, we can't do that. There's no garrison in Altihex, only civilians."

"They're _Autobots_ ," Starscream said, looking at me strangely. That irked me.

"We can't attack civilians," I repeated. "It will give the Autobots strength. They will have the moral advantage as they did in the old war. Right now our slavery makes us sympathetic. We can't lose that."

"Let them come. We will meet them and we will crush them."

"Or this war will drag on for astrocycles," I said. "Repeating the past won't work."

"It will. This time—"

"This time _what_ , Starscream?" I was pushing my luck. I wasn't his trine, I wasn't a General. I had no right to speak to our Commander this way. But apparently I was the only one who _would_ speak for the innocent Autobots of Altihex. "How is this time any different? Because you're in charge? Because all you need to win the Decepticons is a figurehead?" I laughed humorlessly, irony heavy on my glossa as I echoed Prime. "I won't let you make me into another Megatron."

He smirked. "You were Sparked that way."

Something snapped within me. Uncaring of the consequences, I seized Starscream's throat, pulling him halfway across the table. " _I am not Megatron,_ " I snarled. "You may think I am, you may have intended me to be that way, but I'm _not_. I understand that you are the commander. But _you_ have to understand that what worked once, what worked for Megatron, won't work now. You can't pretend that the last two centivorns didn't happen."

I released him, gaining some satisfaction from the clang he made as he fell back. "When you're ready to let go of the past, let me know."

* * *

I'd made it as far as the arena when Skywarp popped into existence at my elbow.

"You really fragged off Screamer back there," he said, a trace of a laugh evident in his voice, as usual. "If looks could kill, Nova, you'd be _so_ slagged."

"I don't know how to make him understand," I muttered, slumping against the wall with crossed arms. Passing 'cons nodded at me respectfully.

"To make it around here, most people just do as they're told."

"But what we're being told is _wrong_."

Skywarp shrugged. "Well, then, I suggest you make yourself happy with what Starscream says."

There was a brief silence. I glowered into space, disliking this option. I wanted the Decepticons to be free, but not at the cost of civilian lives. Starscream was _wrong_. He had to see it!

Skywarp's voice broke the silence. He wasn't looking at me, apparently absorbed in a spar halfway across the room. "Or… you can make Starscream happy with what _you_ say."

I glanced at him, but he kept his gaze averted. If he'd just suggested what I'd thought he'd suggested…

There was Starscream, sweeping in with a stormy face, Thundercracker right behind him. Wise mechs gave him a wide berth.

I had to make a decision. I couldn't lose Starscream's support… he knew things, had information, fought like one possessed, was my creator. But if it came down to losing Starscream against losing the war…

I decided.

My comrades moved aside for me as readily as they did for the other irate Seeker. I approached my creator, Skywarp following curiously in my wake.

"Starscream," I said, loud enough that the mechs around us looked up from their sparring. Good. The more witnesses, the better. I matched Starscream's frosty glare with a cool stare of my own, injecting more confidence into my voice than I actually felt.

"I challenge you to a duel for leadership of the Decepticons."


	17. Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've got bearings, I'll give you that."

"You've got bearings, I'll give you that," Skywarp told me, not even bothering to hide a grin of anticipation. A medic (or, well, as close as we had) was giving me a quick maintenance check, having already finished with Starscream. I could see my creator across the arena, speaking in databursts with Thundercracker, his chosen second. To my surprise, Skywarp had volunteered to be mine, ignoring the glare from his trineleader.

"I don't want you to break with your trine," I'd told him, to which he had replied, "You _are_ trine."

The medic checked my plating and weapons systems, ensuring that I was in peak condition. I needed to think, to plan. I _had_ to win, but how? I'd fought and defeated other Decepticons, but Starscream was in a league of his own. I would have to be quick on my landing struts and my processor.

_/Don't let him take it to the air,/_ Skywarp advised over my comm, _/or he'll hand you your aft on a cybertrate platter. On the ground, you might actually have a chance./_

I shot him a withering look. _/Thanks_ ever _so, Skywarp./_

The medic pronounced me fit to battle. I'd heard of mechs losing all fear once they stepped into the ring, and it had happened to me on several occasions, but now my nervousness only increased. Perhaps it was because Starscream was opposite me, or perhaps it was because this duel would determine our future.

Starscream's face was unreadable as he moved into place opposite me. Traditionally, this was a duel to termination, but Skywarp had told me of one or two instances when Megatron had allowed a challenger to live. That didn't really help. A mech could go through a lot without dying.

Shockwave and Soundwave, our official referees, stood on either side of the ring.

"You may use any weapon at your disposal. If you leave the ring, you forfeit," Shockwave said. "The second may intervene if the combatant is temporarily disabled; the second may only fight for one breem before the combatant must re-enter the ring or forfeit. You will receive no medical assistance during the duel. You will battle to termination or forfeit. Do you understand?"

Starscream and I nodded. Shockwave motioned to Soundwave, politely offering him the honors. Soundwave's visor flashed.

"Begin," he intoned.

Before Soundwave's voice had stopped echoing, Starscream moved, his thrusters giving him an extra boost. I snapped my head back instinctively and his kick lost some of its intended force, though it still made me stagger back two steps. My reflexes saved me from taking a null-ray blast to the face. I heard the cannon powering and ducked, feeling it go overhead. I couldn't afford to take a hit from that. I had to keep my audios tuned to their finest to hear the tell-tale noise of the cannons powering up.

I was ready for him now, but now Starscream waited, mouthplates curving up slightly. I fired on him, but he dodged into the air. He dove, firing repeatedly, and I darted to one side and up, forced into the air. Starscream was on me in an instant, claws tearing at my armor, delving in towards my wiring. I tried to disengage, but the moment I had gotten clear, he struck me again. Warnings flashed in my vision and I took the most viable course of action, cutting my thrusters and falling. Startled, he released me in order to stay airborne and I crashed to the floor in a heap. I heard both groans and cheers from the spectators. Rather than finish me off from where he was, Starscream landed, wings flicking back proudly. I might actually stand a chance if I could take him by surprise here.

"Is that _all_?" he asked mockingly, arrogance making him drop his guard as he came nearer. I waited until he was almost on top of me, then flung up an arm and fired. He skipped backwards, scorched and smoking in several places where I had struck him. More cheers—so many of them were hoping that I would win. But I couldn't think about that right now. I had to concentrate.

I took the initiative, moving in to attack at close quarters. I was physically stronger, and here I could use that to my advantage. Besides, I would be out of the reach of his null rays.

It was clear after half a cycle that I'd made a wise decision. Starscream was struggling, just barely, but it was enough. Here I outmatched him… here I could _defeat_ him!

But Starscream was _fast_ , and that made it difficult. He was no pushover, even in his weak area, and he wielded his claws with painful efficiency. He looked confident, as though he'd expected everything I threw at him. And he'd taught me most of it, of course. But I hadn't relied purely on Starscream, had I? I'd made a name for myself sparring with my fellow Decepticons. I'd spent megacycles in the Archives learning from the old arena fights. And I'd learned some tricks from the best melee fighter I'd had the good fortune to meet.

I feigned a stumble, pretending to be off-balance, and Starscream took the bait, closing in as I'd expected. The surprise on his face was almost comical as I, perfectly stable and ready, seized him and successfully sent him sprawling. I heard a familiar whoop over the tumult and a loud shout of "That's my mech!"

Starscream had landed awkwardly. I took the advantage and fired on him, deliberately aiming to disable rather than deactivate, but his reflexes kicked in and he returned fire, forcing me to dart aside. He pulled himself up, clearly favoring his right leg, but I knew better than to underestimate him now. He wouldn't make it easy for me to end the duel decisively without killing him.

But now he had me on the run; it was all I could do to avoid his lasers. He looked serious about this… Primus, he wasn't going to do this halfway. He couldn't terminate me, but short of that he would do whatever he had to.

Starscream drove me back to the edge of the ring. I fired up my thrusters, but he'd anticipated this and followed me into the air, catching me only a few astrometers up. He dug his claws into my wings, calculating and brutal, tearing at energon lines and slim support struts, ripping through thin plating. I screamed and struggled, kicking, trying to burn him with the heat of my thrusters. He slammed me into the ground hard and I coughed up energon. The crowd had fallen eerily silent. Unlike in other duels, where they would be yelling at the apparent victor by this point, urging him to either terminate the loser or let him forfeit, they all waited to see what Starscream would do.

He wouldn't kill me. He _couldn't_ kill me – to do so would be to extinguish his own Spark. But losing now would mean losing the support of those Decepticons who seemed so confident in me. And Starscream would make it _hurt_.

I couldn't afford to lose.

My processor whirled. Claws? Not good enough. Cannons? Torn off in Starscream's aerial assault. Thrusters? Trapped under Starscream's legs. What other weapon did I have at my disposal?

In a flash, I remembered cool, blue-tinted darkness and the Archivist's voice. _"When you're too close for guns and too far for claws,_ then _what do you use? When these 'archaic' and 'outdated' weapons save your chassis,_ then _you'll appreciate them…"_

And I remembered Ramrod pinning me to the ground and guiding my hands, saying, _"It's not much, but if you ever need to distract someone for a klik or two…"_

"Trust me," Starscream hissed softly, his expression betraying none of his feelings, "this will hurt me more than it will hurt you."

"Yeah, I'll bet it will," I answered, just before I shoved my claws into the circuitry where his waist met his hips and tugged hard on whatever wires I could grip. It worked now just as it had when Ramrod first showed me the trick, making the older Seeker jerk back involuntarily at the wrench on his motor systems. It was just enough to allow me to reach back with both hands and receive the swords that my wings had just produced. I had just a moment to relish the shock on Starscream's face; he had just enough time to begin a startled "What—?!" before I struck, sending him scrambling backwards.

Just like that, the tide had turned. I had Starscream just where I wanted him, out of range of both claws and cannons. The twin swords seemed made for me; it mystified even me how natural I felt at this, how smooth. I'd never fought with them before, yet I knew exactly what I was doing.

Starscream was struggling, faltering, spooked. Finally I knocked him off balance and sent him to the floor. He was battered, sparking at the joints and dripping energon from his wounds. One of his null-rays and part of one wing had been sheared off, his left arm was useless from the elbow down, and it looked as though he could no longer stand on his injured leg. There was a particularly vicious gash on his midsection where he had twisted in an attempt to avoid a slash on his other wing.

He glared up at me and wiped a trickle of energon from his mouthplates. His vents heaved and he attempted to struggle up using only one arm and one leg, but froze when I slid the end of one blade under his chin, tilting his head back. The crowd had again gone completely silent; aside from Starscream's and my intakes cycling rapidly, there was no sound.

"Do you submit?" I asked. My voice wasn't loud, but in the overwhelming silence it rang like a shot.

"Never," Starscream rasped, optics flashing. I pressed harder and a bead of energon welled up where the sword's point met his throat. I saw Thundercracker twitch out of the corner of my optic.

"Do you _submit?_ " I repeated. If it came down to it, I would order him to surrender. I would not kill my own creator.

Yet if I had to order him, the guilt would gnaw at me forever. I would never be certain whether he truly believed I was ready for this.

Starscream's face pulled tight in a brief, pained grimace. "Yes," he said. "I submit."

The Decepticons exploded. It seemed that everyone wanted to touch me, to speak to me, but after a cycle of chaos, Soundwave and Shockwave managed to herd them back.

"Now you've done it," Starscream muttered as I helped him up, giving him to the support of his wingmates. "They'll be useless all orn… my Lord Commander."

"You've really got them riled up," Skywarp added. "Don't you wish to address the troops, my _Lord_?" It was more comfortable when Skywarp said it… I could be sure that he was joking. Almost.

I looked up into a sea of red optics. The weight of my new responsibility settled onto me and I suddenly thought of Optimus. For a moment I was homesick—I missed Optimus with all my Spark. I wanted to see him and speak to him, tell him of everything that had happened. But first I had others to speak to.

Lost for words, I glanced at Starscream, who smirked.

_/When in doubt, you can always fall back on an ancient strategy: keep it short./_

I nodded gratefully, already dredging up the words as I looked back at the Decepticons… at _my_ Decepticons.

"Thank you," I said. "Thank you for supporting me… I hope that I've earned it." I hesitated. How could I state my cause in a way that they would appreciate? "I will end this war. We will have our freedom."

This was enough for my mechs, who once again flooded towards me, some congratulating, others just reaching out to touch me, expressions of awe and wonder on their faces. They acted almost reverential, as though I were an icon so sacred that I would bless them with my touch.

Lugnut loomed behind me, but refrained from embracing me. His jaw had been repaired, but his vocalizer, one of the most delicate components in the Cybertronian body, would take some time to heal. His presence kept the crowd away from one side of me. The constant press was beginning to make me claustrophobic.

Ramrod appeared at my side, his wide grin splitting his face, but all he had time to say was "You forgot to watch your back left again! We'll work on that!" before Starscream pulled me away.

_/Come with me,/_ he commed. _/There's something… I have to tell you./_

With some help from Lugnut, we extricated ourselves from the crowd and I helped Starscream towards our quarters.

"Starscream?" He answered with just a glance. "I… I don't want this to come between us. I understand what things were like between you and Megatron, and I don't want us to be like that."

"Does this mean I'm your second-in-command?"

"I couldn't ask for anyone else, Starscream. You're the best there is."

"Of course I am." He smirked. "Don't worry. You're not nearly as insufferable as he was."

His smile faded. He was acting oddly, his energy field pulled tightly about him, his optics on the floor. There was too much tension in his frame. Whatever he had to tell me, it would be difficult for him. His strange behavior aroused my curiosity at once, but I waited until we were safe inside my quarters.

"We should…" Starscream trailed off vaguely, gesturing at the chairs. I sat, now burning with anticipation. He only remained seated for a few kliks before struggling to his landing struts again, hobbling back and forth, his movements quick and agitated.

"You've noticed how they all stare at you," he said finally.

"I've noticed." A bit late for this, since Hurricane had already told me why. I tried to predict where Starscream was headed with this.

"They… many of them… they think you're Megatron, that he's come back. That he's returned. It's rubbish, of course, but they're on the right track. You… were meant to lead the Decepticons… it's the very reason for your existence."

"What do you mean?" I asked, foreboding churning in my Spark.

"I can't find the words," he exploded, turning on me in his desperation. "How do I say in a moment what I've been hiding for two hundred vorns?"

"Try," I whispered.

"I didn't want you to know. _Anybody_ to know." Starscream paced back and forth a few more times, optics burning wildly.

"Tell me," I said softly. It was an order, and he had to obey.

"Your co-creator… your code writer… it was Megatron." He cycled an intake, then said it again. "Megatron was your creator."

My world ground to a halt.

Megatron. The cruelest and most brutal Decepticon, the very thing I rebelled against, had contributed to my programming.

_I'm not like Megatron_ , I'd insisted. But I _was_ like him. I was Sparked like him. I was Sparked… _from_ him.

"No," I said flatly. "I… he can't be."

"And yet."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

Starscream finally sat, expelling air from his vents in a forceful sigh. "When you've fought for millions of vorns to become leader, you don't want to give it up to anyone. I admit it: I didn't want you to get ideas. If I'd told you what you were Sparked for, you might have actually wanted it. In the end, you did this because you thought it was right, not because you thought it was _your_ right."

I dropped my head into my hands. "How? Why?"

Starscream was silent for a long moment. I glanced up to see once again the expression of shame that had haunted his face back in the cave that had been our shelter the night he'd revealed that he was my carrier-creator.

"I hated him," he hissed, his voice layered with too many emotions to name. "I hated submitting to him. He wanted an heir, in case anything should happen to him. And he ordered me – me, the Air Commander, second-in-command of all Decepticons – to Sparkmerge with him like some common pleasurebot, to carry his sparkling, his 'heir' when I should have been the one to inherit the Decepticons. And _then_ he bound me to you. _Forced_ me to swear loyalty, obedience—!"

He shut his mouth, slowly unclenching his hands, calming himself.

"Do you hate me?" I asked. "Because of what I am?"

"I did, once," Starscream said. "When you were still within me, in the vorn following Axis. You were a symbol of Megatron. A reminder of his dominance, the humiliation he put me through. But then…"

He watched me for several kliks. I waited patiently.

"And then… you were Sparked. When I saw you…" He shook his head slowly, looking faintly bemused. "I could never hate you, Nova. Never."

After a comfortable silence, Starscream said, "Well, then. You're in charge now. Your orders, Commander?"

I didn't much feel like giving orders. I needed to leave Kaon and regain my balance. Everything had happened so quickly this orn. I needed to find myself after losing my bearings.

And I had other matters to consider, such as my strategy. Unlike Starscream, I was uninterested in conquest or the destruction of the Autobots. All I wanted was freedom for all Cybertronians. I was not, however, so naïve as to assume that the Senate would simply agree to give us liberty and equality without a fight. In their optics, our revolution was nothing but a slave revolt, a mad struggle of the rabble.

"We'll strengthen our hold on the southern hemisphere first," I said. We could hold our own on the defensive. Sooner or later, hopefully, the Autobots would simply tire of fighting. Many already had, I knew from growing up in Iacon. "No more northern expansion for a while. Just give them an orn or two to rest. I… I have something I need to do."

"Someone you need to see?" Starscream asked shrewdly. I wondered if he meant Optimus or…

Apis. Suddenly I wanted to see her more than anything. But first I would have to contact Optimus. I still had his comm signal, and now I wondered why it had never occurred to me to speak to him before now.

"Get yourself repaired," I told Starscream.

"You too," he said. "I want you healthy before you fly off into parts unknown."

"Don't worry," I murmured, already planning. "I won't even leave Decepticon territory."


	18. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've grown so much, and you've come so far."

My message to Optimus consisted only of a time and a set of coordinates. I arrived at my chosen location first, which suited me fine – I didn't mind waiting, but I didn't want to leave Optimus any doubt that I would come. Besides, it was safer for me to be waiting around in Decepticon territory than it would be for him.

I'd chosen an inconspicuous canyon at the edge of Decepticon territory, near the Tarn-Praxus border, and I'd made sure that this area would not be patrolled for the rest of the orn. I kept to the shade for protection from the notorious Tarnish heat, pacing restlessly back and forth and trying not to think.

I waited for a good megacycle until the appointed time. I'd given him enough space to come all the way from Iacon if he had to, though I suspected that he was nearer. It was just a breem after the appointed time that I heard engines.

Optimus Prime rolled in from the north, red-and-blue paintwork shimmering in the heat. He transformed, straightening to his full, considerable height. I'd almost forgotten how tall he was. He still towered over me and always would.

His next action was to retract his mask, revealing that I still had the privilege of speaking with him face-to-face. He was smiling. If he saw the Decepticon insignias on my wings, he showed no sign of it as he came forward, surprising me with a sudden warm embrace.

"Nova," he said as he drew back to observe me at arm's length. I felt as though I could melt at the sound of his voice. "I'm so glad you're all right. I've missed you."

Mere words could never express how much I'd missed him, but I answered anyway. "I missed you too, Optimus."

"You've grown," he remarked, blue optics soft.

My vocalizer caught. _Oh yes. I have. Learned enough to terminate many of your Autobots. Oh, did I mention that I'm now the leader of your enemies? Or that I'm the creation of your archnemesis?_

Helpless, I pulled away. How could I even face him now?

"Did you know?"

His answer was a blank look. "Know what?"

"About… my creators."

A troubled frown etched itself across Optimus's features. He held his silence for a few kliks, close to half a cycle. "I knew about Starscream," he answered at last. "And only then after you were Sparked. I didn't know that he was carrying… none of us did. He took great pains to hide it. I'll never know what he went through trying to keep you a secret. I only found out when Ratchet contacted me after your transfer into a protoform.

"I wanted you to grow up free… that's why I adopted you as my ward. Starscream raised you for the first several vorns, hidden away in my estate to keep your origin a secret. But he never told us who your co-creator was. Ratchet and I assumed it was one of his wingmates."

So Optimus didn't know. A nervous fear nagged at me: if he had, would he still have raised me as his own? If I told him now, would he hate me?

Even so, Prime deserved to know. After all that he'd done for me, all that he'd given me, I owed him this much.

But it was so hard! To tell Prime would be to accept it. If I said those hated words aloud, I would be forced to acknowledge them.

The internal struggle was brief but violent. At last I opened my mouth, forcing my vocal processors to emit the horrible truth.

"It was Megatron," I told him. "Megatron was my creator."

Prime said nothing. I waited for the explosion, for horror or disgust to pass over his faceplates. Any moment, it would come. He would hate me now.

"I admit, I had my suspicions," he said. To my surprise, he only sounded sad. Not angry, not sickened. Just sad, and tired. "But I always thought that Starscream would never allow it. Perhaps I misjudged their relationship, if they decided to have a sparkling together… though if I know Starscream, he would never admit to—"

"Are you _glitching,_ Prime?!" I burst out. He looked at me in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't hold back on my account, by all means," I said bitterly. "You don't have to pretend it doesn't matter."

"Nova, what are you talking about?"

"I was Sparked from Megatron. I'm the son and heir of your greatest enemy. We're thinking of the same Megatron, right? The Slag Maker? The one who killed Sentinel Prime, thousands of your Autobots and countless millions of alien creatures? The one who tried to terminate you too many times to count? Is any of this registering?!"

"Nova…"

"Please, Prime, if you hate me, don't lie to me. Don't smile and play pretend. Just hate me and get it over with!"

"Nova, stop." It was as though he'd disabled my vocalizer. I could never disobey Prime. "What are you saying?"

I looked down, but he lifted my chin with gentle fingers, forcing me to look him in the optics.

"I could never hate you, Nova," he said softly. "I held you as a sparkling, I watched you grow into the mech who stands before me now. You are not your creators, and I will never hate you."

"But I… I'm a Decepticon," I managed. "I've killed Autobots…"

"I will never hate you. No matter what. I know why you wear those symbols." One finger gently brushed against one of my seared-on insignias. "Not for revenge or hatred, like Starscream. For justice, freedom. We both want the same thing, Nova; we're only working towards it from different directions."

He smiled fondly, then, to my surprise, he chuckled.

"What?" I asked.

"I was just thinking of… do you remember when Ironhide nearly blasted you through the wall at the party I held for your graduation from the Academy?"

I smiled. It was funnier now than it had been at the time. "I remember."

Prime backed off again, taking in all of me. "You've been repaired recently," he noted, well-trained optics tracing the painted-over weld lines on my wings and torso.

"Ah... yes. I…" I hesitated, but he recognized my facial expression.

"No matter what," he reminded me.

"I… challenged Starscream." Another brief hesitation. "I won."

I watched as the implications sank in, but before he could speak, I murmured, "I don't want to be your enemy, Optimus."

After a moment he laid a large hand on my shoulder. "You never will be, Nova. You will always be my dear friend… a good mech, and a leader worthy of my respect."

It was perhaps the highest praise he'd ever given me. I was almost certain that my Spark had flared warmly enough to combust.

"Optimus… isn't there something we can do?" I asked him. "Between the two of us, couldn't we end this now? Couldn't we call a truce?"

"I wish we could," Optimus said darkly. "But I am no longer the absolute leader of the Autobots. I gave up those powers after Axis. I know now that was a mistake. Any treaty must go through the Senate, and I'm afraid they aren't likely to vote for peace. But many of the Autobots will still listen to me. I will do what I can."

"On my end, I…" I had to make sure he knew this, _really_ knew it. "What happened at Simfur… it won't happen again. I'll make sure of it. I promise."

I checked my chronometer. There was time, but I wanted to take no chances. "The longer you're here puts you in more danger. You should go."

"I will," he answered, but he spent another long moment just watching me.

"You've grown so much, and you've come so far. I can't tell you how proud I am of you, Nova."

For a klik I found it difficult to speak; then I found my voice again. "You're more my creator than… _he_ ever will be. If I'm ever half the mech you are, Optimus, then my life will be complete."

His smile was radiant. Then he let his battle mask slide back on and he nodded to me. "Until next we meet."

"I'll be seeing you, Prime," I answered. I watched him until even his dust had vanished from sight.

* * *

My anticipation of seeing Apis again drove me faster than my thrusters. Even the dust I had to hack out of my intakes upon landing in Khalkon didn't dampen my spirits.

But my anxiety returned as I approached Steelcrusher's shop. Optimus had taken the news well, but he'd known me all my life. What if Apis rejected me when I told her? Because I had to tell her. I'd never consider hiding something this important. She had the right to know everything before we continued this… this whatever-it-was that we had.

The small orange mech was at the counter. I approached, looking discreetly around for a glimpse of Apis.

"Oh," he said. "It's you. I figured you'd got yourself shot down over Polyhex."

"Is Apis here?" I asked, feeling foolish. The little mech regarded me coolly.

"She's not working right now. She's at home."

"Oh. I see." I hesitated. The orange mech drummed his fingers on the countertop. "Uh… is there a staircase or something?" He arched an optic ridge, but said nothing. "Or not," I muttered.

"What are you hanging around her for?" the little mech asked suddenly. I hitched up my wings defensively.

"I just want to see her again, that's all."

"Yeah?" he growled suspiciously. "Well, 'Crusher'll grind you into scrap metal if you try anything funny."

 _I'm sure he could,_ I thought, picturing the purple tank's huge hands. "Look, I'm not going to 'try anything funny.' Can't you just comm her or something?"

"No." The orange mech crossed his arms.

I could see that there was no arguing with him, but there was another way. I left the shop, made sure the grumpy mech couldn't see me, and headed around the side of the building, flying up to Apis's window. She sat cross-legged on the floor with parts scattered all around her – it looked like a disassembled pair of thrusters.

I tapped on the window and she jumped, looking over her shoulder. Her face split into a grin and her handlebars perked up as she came over and opened the window.

"Nova!"

"I hope you didn't offline anyone I know for those," I said, pointing at her project. She giggled.

"Decepticon humor?"

"In Kaon, I'd be serious."

"Don't worry, I didn't. What are you doing here?"

"Here in town or here at your window?"

"Either."

"I'm at your window because your little bodyguard downstairs wouldn't let me in the proper way. I'm in town because I wanted to see you."

"Oh, that's Shortstop. Don't take it personally, he's like that to almost everyone." She glanced down and snorted with laughter. "Do you, um… do you want to come inside?"

"Yes, please. If it's okay with…"

"Don't let 'Stop worry you. You're perfectly fine, Nova. Come on in."

I climbed awkwardly inside, squeezing sideways to give my wings enough room. She cleared the grimy parts out of the way, but didn't sit.

"How've you… been?" she asked. I could tell she had seen the signs of repairs all over my frame.

"Fine. All right, I guess." I hesitated. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"How've you… been?"

"Fine. I mean, it's the same as ever."

There was an awkward silence. Apis fidgeted, her handlebars twitching this way and that. Then, finally, she reached out for my hand.

"You want to go grab some energon? My treat?"

I nodded, grateful that I could spend even a little more time with her before she was sure to draw away from me.

We left her room and she led me down the stairs into the shop's back courtyard. Steelcrusher was there, and my fuel pump stopped as he looked up at us. Then he guffawed. "'Ey, it's Nova! Been a few vorns. Takin' Apis out agin?"

"I'm takin' 'im out this time, 'Crusher," Apis answered.

"Giss I don' hafta warn you 'bout gittin cosy," the tank laughed. "Wouldn' be much fun fer you ta short-circuit again, eh, m'mech?"

Heat rose to my face and I mumbled something incoherent. _I didn't short out when_ Ramrod _kissed me,_ I thought viciously, but checked myself. Apis was more… well, I didn't know yet.

"Leave 'im alone, 'Crusher. We'll be back later, 'kay?"

"'Ave fun, you two."

Steelcrusher's blessing secured, Apis tugged me into the shop and towards the door, but not before the orange mech spotted us. He banged his hands on the counter.

"Now hold on a klik! How— what— where…"

"Oh, Shorty," Apis laughed. Immediately her friend – Shortstop, she'd called him? – sputtered.

"Don't _call_ me that!" I was reminded of Skywarp and Starscream and couldn't help but snicker. Immediately Shortstop glared at me. "What're you laughing at, Airhead?"

I bristled, but only slightly, since my amusement made me less sensitive to insults. "Nothing… Shorty."

"We're going out," Apis announced loudly enough for the whole shop to hear. "See you later!"

* * *

"'Crusher likes you a lot," Apis told me over our energon. She smirked up at me from under the edge of her helmet. "I guess when he found out about your little, ahaha, defect—"

"Hey!"

"—he thought it was hilarious. He said you were nice and polite, too."

"I don't think I'd like it if he _didn't_ like me."

Her handlebars wiggled happily. "Probably not, but when 'Crusher likes you, he _really_ likes you." She took another gulp of energon. "But you didn't come here to talk about 'Crusher, did you?"

My fuel tank contracted. Stalling, I glanced around at the other patrons of the small restaurant. "I'll… I'll tell you later."

"I understand." Another gulp, another little twitch of her handlebars. "How about this weather we've been having?"

* * *

She didn't mention the war until we were walking along a mostly-deserted street – I recognized the route to her rooftop hideaway.

"We don't get much news here," she said, "and definitely not from someone who was actually there. I didn't like not knowing what was happening… I was worried about you. What's going on?"

I told her about the northward push, leaving nothing out, not even the destruction of Simfur.

"That's awful," she murmured, leading the way up the winding stairs. "All those innocent bots… I can't imagine it."

"All of that's going to change," I promised as we came out onto the roof. "From now on we won't attack civilians. If we take the moral advantage, it could rally more support to our cause. We'll concentrate first and foremost on securing our freedom."

"How can you be so sure?"

This was it. I had to tell her now.

With a sigh, I gestured to her blanket. "We should sit down. I have a lot to tell you."

I couldn't look at her as I told her. Instead, I watched my pedes and let the words fall from my glossa, trying not to think of what would come next. I told her everything, and then I fell silent.

For a distressingly long time, we sat without speaking as she mulled it over and I fretted.

"I was Sparked after Axis," Apis said, and I glanced at her sidelong. She wasn't looking at me, but at her fidgeting hands. "I heard the stories, of course, but I didn't know anything to back them up. The only Decepticons I ever met were slaves and they… well, they weren't so bad. Not as bad as the Autobots taught us, anyway. I didn't like that they were slaves. It just didn't seem right. That's why I came here. And I thought, what if there was someone who could free them? But he'd have to be as wise as he was strong, as kind as he was firm. There needed to be someone who would fight without hatred, or else the killing would just keep going and the Decepticons really would be the monsters that the Autobots said they were.

"I hoped it would happen, but as I got older I realized that there weren't many people like that anymore. It just wasn't possible. There was too much hate, and everyone was too set in their ways to change the way they thought. So I thought it would never happen, that the Decepticons would stay slaves, and that it would just keep going.

"Then I met you. From the moment I first saw you, I knew there was something different about you. The more I got to know you, the more certain I was that you were the one I'd been looking for. Listening to you talk just now… about the war and everything… I know that you're the one who can change things."

She swiveled to take my face in her hands.

"You're the best thing that could possibly have happened to the Decepticons, Nova," she told me. "And I'm the luckiest bot on this whole planet." She leaned in and kissed me at the corner of my mouth. "And as for… him… you aren't your creators, Nova." That was exactly what Optimus had told me. "I don't care who wrote your programming. You're nothing like him. You are your own mech."

I stared at her, hardly able to believe my audios. She didn't care. It didn't matter to her whether my creator was Megatron or the Unmaker himself… she still wanted me.

I had never wanted to kiss someone so much, but a short-out would have ruined this moment, so instead I opted for an embrace. I pulled her close, reassuring myself that this was real, that _she_ was real, that I had been accepted by the two bots who mattered the most. She held me in return, little handlebars flicking back and forth in joy.

Finally, I drew back, struggling to say something.

"Apis… I…"

She interrupted me. "Nova… let's race!"

Right now there was no war, not for me; the purple insignias on my wings disappeared to match Apis's unmarked chassis, and as we raced each other through the dusty streets of this tiny Neutral settlement, we were just two young bots enjoying life.


	19. Trypticon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can't get away with not killing Autobots."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's Apis scenes are a collaboration with thedaringplatypus.

It was amazing how my perspective had changed. Although I'd known the command team for vorns, I no longer looked on them merely as comrades. Now I had to consider them from a different angle, judging their strengths and weaknesses, their individual styles, their psychology and their relationships with each other.

I didn't have the luxury of uncertainty. I could not forget that they were all Decepticons – they preyed on weakness.

"It makes no sense to continue our northward assault when the regions closest to us aren't secured," I told them. "There are still Autobots stationed in Trypticon and Vos. Why spread out our forces so much that one attack on Kaon could cripple us?"

"The Autobot forces in both Trypticon and Vos are strong," Trannis pointed out.

"All the more reason for us to deal with them before spreading our army out any further," I answered. So far, so good. "I'd suggest Trypticon first. It's a defensible position, for us, and the fortress there…"

"…has never been breached," Starscream interrupted. "And the Autobots are inside. They have the supplies they need to outlast a siege for decavorns if they must."

"I agree," Stryka added. "Ve built zat fortress to be impenetrable, and now ze Autobots are using it against us."

I processed that. "If the fortress were destroyed, would it be worth it? I'd sooner have it gone than in Autobot possession."

"It's impossible," Starscream cut in again. "Even if we hit it with everything we had, it wouldn't fall. An army of Omega Sentinels might stand a chance of denting the walls."

"I don't suppose we've got any of those lying around, do we?"

To my surprise, everyone looked at Shockwave.

"Well," he said. "There are some remaining guardians in my care, but unfortunately we do not have energon to spare reactivating and fueling them, even for a few orns. The largest stock of energon we have – had – is beneath Trypticon."

"If I may?" It was Thunderwing. I couldn't afford to let Seeker tradition affect how I dealt with the trineless scientist.

"Speak."

"I have spent centivorns developing special exoskeletal armor that may help." His optics gleamed in excitement. "It is designed to maximize both defensive and offensive power. It acts as a symbiote, but it is merely an extension of the wearer's will, hardly different than the fabled Apex armor of Sentinel Prime. This armor renders the wearer virtually unstoppable. If the carapace were bonded to, say, you yourself, Lord Nova…"

"Commander," I said.

"It's untested," Starscream hissed at the same time, just as Trannis said, "Unnatural."

"You're delusional, Thunderwing," Starscream continued. "Keep your little toy. We'll find another way."

"There is no other way," Thunderwing muttered.

"That's enough," I told them. Still… if Thunderwing weren't exaggerating, this could be the way inside. _Virtually unstoppable._ The thought of such power made my Spark flare. That anyone… that _I_ could wield it… was tempting. "I'll consider it, Thunderwing, since it seems to be the only option we have. Show me this armor of yours. The rest of you, keep thinking. I'll see you all back here in two megacycles."

Starscream intercepted me before I'd taken two steps. The others were leaving or talking amongst themselves; Thunderwing waited by the door. "Nova," my creator hissed. "Thunderwing's experiments… they're dangerous."

"He's a scientist. I thought you'd approve."

" _I'm_ a scientist. _He's_ a nutcase."

"I didn't hear _you_ come up with any suggestions," I said, pulling away and meeting up with Thunderwing at the exit.

* * *

Thunderwing's laboratory was in the lower levels. "I keep it dim," he explained. "The light could be harmful to some of the materials I work with. The basic concept is really quite simple: the carapace is grafted directly onto the wearer. The prototype is designed for Seekers, of course, but I can begin construction on shells suitable for other models as well. The armor is practically impenetrable. In addition to the obvious defensive benefits, the shell bolsters the wearer's self-repair systems and weapons systems."

"How much energy does this require?" I asked, following him deeper into the lab. Things hissed and bubbled in the dark.

"Very little. In fact, the shell reduces the wearer's dependency on energon. With further enhancements, I hope to erase the need for energon completely. Here we are."

He did something before a heavy door, connecting remotely, as far as I could tell. "Pardon all the security, Lo… Commander. I take great pride in my work."

The door opened into what looked like the central area of the lab. Though there were other curiosities, the room was dominated by a fluid-filled cylindrical tank containing something dark and mech-shaped. I approached cautiously, trying to take a reading.

"You'll find it far superior to older outer shells such as the Apex-class armor. The exoskeleton is spliced directly into the neuro-cortex in order to maximize the wearer's control."

"So it isn't just a question of putting it on and taking it off?"

"Not at all. That would be too easy for an enemy to dislodge. As I said, the shell is grafted directly onto the wearer's armor."

Upon closer inspection, the armor seemed modeled off of insectoid organics. Half of it was solid plating; the rest formed an indistinct cloud. I reached out to lay my fingertips on the glass. Black ropy shapes surged out of the smudgy cloud and clanked against the inside of the tank. I jerked my hand away.

"What _is_ that?" I asked. "What is it made of?"

"Tissues collected from various subjects. The raw materials—"

"Wait, _what_?! You mean you made this from… from corpses?"

Thunderwing blinked. "Not at all. The tissue must be living for the polydermal grafting process to work effectively."

I backed away. "And you want me to let that thing _bind_ to me? Permanently?!"

"Lord Nova, think of the power that this form will grant you! This could end the war!"

"By making myself a weapon of mass destruction? I'm fine as I am." I cast another horrified glance up at the armor shell. "This… this is… no. We'll find another way."

I retreated as quickly as dignity would allow, leaving the scientist alone with his creation. Leaving Thunderwing's lab, I came up against a different mech.

"Commander Nova," he said. He was a spindly cycle-form with green and black plating. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure. Designation Oil Slick. I heard from a reputable source that you're having trouble breaking into Trypticon. I believe I may have something that can help."

* * *

"This," Oil Slick said, holding up a piece of metal, "is battle-grade cybertrate, also called siege-grade because this is what all our siege armature was made of during the War. This is what the really sensible rich mechs are made of. Optimus Prime's made of this. Your outer armor is made of a structurally altered version: keeps the strength, but it's only about 25% as heavy. It's the strongest substance ever discovered, and Trypticon is made of layers of it."

He dropped the cybertrate into a containment tank and sealed it save for a hole at the top. "And this," he continued, holding up a small vial of brown liquid, "is our secret weapon."

He lifted the vial and tipped it slowly, optics focused and hand steady. He allowed two drops to fall through the hole before sealing the containment field and the vial. The liquid landed on the cybertrate sample. Evil-looking smoke gushed up, trapped in the tank, and brown splotches spread quickly over the metal's surface. Holes grew in the center of the discoloration, and within kliks, the metal had completely dissolved.

"What _is_ that stuff?"

"The Autobots call it Cosmic Rust," Oil Slick answered proudly. "One of my greatest inventions. We used it in such situations as these during the War. Imagine what this does to Autobot armor."

"I'd rather not."

"It seems a shame to pass up such a powerful weapon."

"I will pass up as many powerful weapons as I must in order to get my point across," I hissed. So this was what it meant to lead the Decepticons: choosing between unpleasant alternatives. "I am not interested in the pointless destruction of Autobots. If your 'Cosmic Rust' can get us into Trypticon, then we'll use it. But I will not permit its use primarily on living targets. Is that understood?"

"Understood, sir."

* * *

The fortress at Trypticon really was quite impressive, with its forbidding spiked architecture. The streets surrounding it were empty; not an Autobot could be seen.

_/Strange,/_ Starscream remarked as his trine dipped in low above Hurricane and me. _/They're already holed up in the fortress./_

_/They couldn't have known that we were coming,/_ I answered. _/They should have expected an attack on one of the northern city-states./_

_/Unless they were warned in advance,/_ Starscream said grimly.

_/We'll deal with that later./_ I checked to see that Lugnut and Octane, a tanker jet, were still following us. _/Prepare to drop your canisters./_

_/Ready and eager,/_ Octane replied cheekily. _/Let's oxidize this baby./_

I'd have sighed if my vents weren't otherwise occupied. Though Octane was necessary to the plan, he had a talent at grinding my gears. _/Start your run. We'll cover you./_

Trypticon was heavily armed. We fired at wherever the shots came from to keep the gunners' heads down.

_/The crosswind is coming from dead east,/_ Starscream warned over the general comm. _/The smoke will blow right over the fortress, but stay alert./_

I didn't want any of my own soldiers to be caught in the chemical attack. Lugnut and Octane jettisoned Oil Slick's specially-designed canisters and we followed as they veered away. The canisters would explode on impact, sending Cosmic Rust everywhere… but mostly on the wall of the fortress directly before the main causeway. Two kliks later, the canisters struck. Brown rust spread rapidly as the metal walls oxidized.

_/Will that be enough?/_ Hurricane asked.

_/Give it a salvo, just to be sure,/_ I answered. _/But stay away from that smoke!/_

We went in for a run, firing on the growing brown spots. The unhealthy, brittle metal disintegrated, leaving a wide-open entrance.

_/Oil Slick always knows what he's doing,/_ Skywarp crowed. _/Look at them, all running around and trying to figure out what to do!/_

I sent the order over our general frequency. _/The door is open. Decepticons, attack!/_

They complied in a roar of engines. The aerial forces arrived first; I fell back and allowed Starscream to take the lead. He was still the Air Commander and knew more about aerial strategy than I did. What had been the Autobots' safe haven became their undoing, for now they were trapped inside the fortress. I had given strict orders before that any who wished to surrender would be allowed to, and I'd emphasized the goal of taking prisoners rather than wreaking destruction.

Although the first few levels were high enough to fly in (this fortress had been designed partly for flight-capable Decepticons), the halls quickly grew shorter, pushing more and more of us to the ground. The Autobots fought with strength born of desperation, but many saw quickly that the situation was hopeless and surrendered before they had sustained much damage.

A furious bellow and a powerful cannon blast drew my attention to one of the upper levels. I recognized the Autobot fighter as Ironhide. He was fierce and formidable, taking on groups of Decepticons as they came and leaving them battered.

I hadn't quite decided how I would handle this when Ironhide spotted me. With a roar, he lunged for me. Immediately, several of the nearby Decepticons moved to intercept him, but Ironhide brushed them off like Insecticons. A backwards leap saved me from a heavy fist to the faceplates.

"Ironhide, wait, it's me!" I tried.

"Yeah, I know," he growled in response, the cannons on his arms charging with a whine. "Ran off to join the Decepticons, after all Prime's slag about everyone deserving a chance at freedom, after everything he did for you!"

I dodged, and not a moment too soon. His cannonfire tore up the floor where I'd just been standing. "Stop," I implored him. "It's not like that."

"Then what's it like?" he bellowed back. "Enough talk! Shoot, frag you!"

I remembered riding on Ironhide's shoulders as a sparkling. I landed, keeping my arms at my sides. "I'm not going to fight you, Ironhide."

He scowled, cannons still cycling and whining. "I ought to slag you right here."

"You won't," I answered. "It's not like you."

"Hmph. Because I have _honor_ , I won't terminate an unresisting enemy." He approached, cannons still at the ready, and stopped only when they were mere ticks from my cockpit and chestplates. "The Senate's ordered you taken, functional or not. I think Optimus would prefer functional."

"I said I wouldn't fight you," I said, tensing up. There were some things that were worse than termination; slavery was one of them. "I didn't say I'd let you take me."

Energy flashed past my optics, momentarily overloading the sensors. Once my optics reset, I saw Ironhide lying on the ground an astrometer away. Starscream landed beside me, sneering at the prone Autobot.

"You're welcome," he said. "You can't get away with _not_ killing Autobots. It won't work." I ignored him in favor of going to Ironhide. "It was only a null-ray. Don't get your wires twisted."

I checked on the comm frequencies. Some Autobots had escaped, but most had been trapped inside. The Decepticons were tracking down the last few Autobots roaming at large.

I explored upwards, running my hands over the elaborately carved glyphs all over the walls. Some I couldn't read at all. Others described ancient battles and powerful Decepticon warriors, most terminated long ago. In an upper hall, I found a somewhat fanciful description of Starscream (it downplayed his abrasive personality), along with accounts of battles in which he'd participated. There was still space at the bottom, room for more. Megatron came further along, taking up an entire wall. I wondered if my designation would ever be carved into the walls of Trypticon, then laughed out loud, the sound echoing off the high ceilings.

Just beyond Megatron's wall was a set of massive doors, leading into what I could only guess had been his quarters. I wondered if every Decepticon city-state had living arrangements for Megatron and his generals.

Nobody had come with me, so when I heard a faint shift of metal on metal, I went on guard immediately. There was an Autobot here, no doubt, waiting until he could sneak away. My sensors picked up nothing, but I stayed alert.

"I know you're here," I said loudly.

"'Course I'm here. I'm right on top of you, mech!"

I whirled, but saw no one. That voice, however… I knew that voice. "Jazz? Show yourself!"

"Chill, little guy. If I'd wanted to off you I'da done it right when you walked in."

"Where are you?"

"They never remember to look up. Come on, kid, you're a Seeker. You should know this already!"

I looked up. The black-and-white Autobot was splayed out on the ceiling.

"Magnetic fields," he said. "Get me into some unusual places."

"Planning on coming down?"

"Dunno. You gonna call your troops on me, Commander?"

"That depends on what you're doing here."

"How 'bout this: you promise not to call in your mechs and I'll come down there and tell you something interesting."

"I won't call them."

Jazz dropped from the ceiling and landed in a crouch before straightening up. "Not bad for a groundpounder, right?"

"Not bad," I conceded. "What's this interesting something you have to tell me?"

"There's been some muttering in your army. Seems you managed to get someone mad at you already."

"Muttering…? Wait, how would _you_ know?"

Jazz grinned. "Really? We're not deaf. Intel head's good at his job."

"Why tell me this? Wouldn't it be better for the Autobots if there were internal issues among the Decepticons?"

"You kidding? Megatron and Starscream were the _definition_ of 'internal issues' and _that_ didn't do us any good. Besides, I heard about you. Saw how you handled that battle. With that Cosmic Rust you coulda wiped us out without firing a shot. Instead you break down a wall. And when we're all running around like chickens with our heads cut off, and you 'cons coulda made scrap outta our whole legion, you round up prisoners. I see what you're doing, and I like it. So you could say I've got a personal interest in keeping you in power. And for that, I'm telling you to watch your back, 'cause someone might try an' make trouble for you sometime soon."

"I'll… I'll pay attention," I said. "Thank you. But how do you know all of this?"

"Highbrow's got optics everywhere," Jazz said. "So, how's about you let me go now?"

"You can't just walk out of here," I protested. "How am I supposed to know you'll actually leave?"

"Kid, you've known me since you came up to my knee. I owe Prime a lot. I won't stick around –no pun intended – and make trouble."

I hesitated. "Fine, then," I said. "Get out of here. And… thank you again."

"I'll say hi to Prime for you. I would say you'll see me around, but hey, you probably won't."

"Primus help you if I do," I answered.

"Woah, tough guy. Nice to see Prime didn't spoil you permanently. I'm outta here."

He vanished out the door. I shook my head. Starscream was right; I had to stop doing this. These were my friends, mechs I'd known all my life. But Ironhide was a powerful warrior who had terminated plenty of Decepticons in his time, while Jazz was head of Special Ops and could be up to anything, undermining our plans, spying, sabotaging. It was a serious problem.

* * *

Repair work started on the walls right away. Our energon shortage was also alleviated, although this was only temporary until our factories and refineries were running again. The Autobots had been holding Decepticon prisoners here, not a legion's worth but more than a handful. We took any reinforcements we could get with our forces stretched across several city-states.

After overseeing whatever needed my approval, I retired to Megatron's – my – quarters, checked the ceiling, then explored further. My most notable discovery was the controls for the windows: a touch to the right button made an entire section of the fortress's armor shift and move, sliding away to reveal a southward view. Digging out a cube from my subspace, I settled down in the uncomfortably large throne-like chair to rest for a moment.

A breem later, the door hissed open.

"Nova?"

"Over here," I answered, drawing Ramrod over.

"Primus, this thing is big. Megatron must have had a flair for the dramatic, don't you think?"

"The Autobots knew we were coming. I think they've got a spy among us."

"You'd think we'd know," he said. "This army goes way back. Everyone knows each other. It's not like someone new shows up and we don't know anything about him. We all have reasons to hate the Autobots. Except you, but I don't think you're the spy."

"There must be someone who stands out." I would ask Soundwave when I returned to Kaon; he could investigate subtly. "Am I really the only one who doesn't hate Autobots?"

"You weren't a slave," he said darkly. "You'd hate them too if you went through that."

"What did your master do to you?" I asked. Instantly, I regretted it… what sort of a question was that? It was too personal, probably brought up too many memories.

"Everything," Ramrod growled. "And he enjoyed every klik. I don't really want to talk about it. I _hate_ him."

"But you escaped."

"Lucky thing, too. It's funny, but I remember the orn I escaped more clearly than the rest of it."

"Maybe if I'd gone through that, I'd be stronger."

" _No_." It was vehement, and I looked at him in surprise to see his head shaking fervently. "It would _ruin_ you, Nova. I never want you to go through that."

* * *

I sent Starscream back to Kaon with most of the army, then (since I knew Lugnut wouldn't leave me alone and I needed someone to distract him) brought Hurricane and Lugnut with me as I flew for Khalkon.

"I hate dust," Hurricane grumbled gloomily.

"Then stay inside and have a cube or something. And distract Lugnut for me, will you?"

He sighed heavily but nodded, and I entered Steelcrusher's store.

* * *

My idea of a perfect orn was dropping everything to spend a few megacycles with Apis. I told her what I'd been up to lately, sharing my concerns about the possible mutiny Jazz had warned me about and the likelihood of a spy among us. After that I took her flying again, and then we lazed in her quarters. She told me about her life in the settlement, describing the antics of her friends, the strange customers who sometimes came in, what new shipment of parts they'd gotten and how frustrating it was to organize everything properly.

"I'm sorry," she giggled after a while. "But compared to what you've been telling me, this must all seem so boring."

"Not at all," I assured her. "Normal mechs doing normal things… it helps remind me what I'm fighting for."

"Mm," Apis hummed, putting down her empty cube and half-turning from where she sat on my lap to curl into my side. "It's so nice just to spend time with you."

I set down my own cube and leaned back, taking her with me so she was sprawled across my front. I linked my hands around the small of her back and nuzzled the side of her face. "Peace and quiet is rare for me." I pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw. "Having a beautiful femme to spend it with just makes it all the better."

Apis chuckled and began stroking my head vents. "Who's this 'beautiful femme' you're talking about?" she joked. "I'ma gonna git jealous if you keep talking like that."

I grinned into her neck and stroked the wheel-halves on her back, reveling in how she snuggled closer, little engine purring. "Well, she's small and orange. Pretty fast… for a groundpounder." She smacked my shoulder. "She's got these adorable handlebars…" I kissed the corner of her mouth and said handlebars wiggled happily. "…and even though she can't see it for herself, she's the most beautiful femme I've ever met and the only one I will ever love." I smiled up into her wide orange optics.

"Oh, Nova," she sighed, kissing as close to my mouth as she dared, "you're out saving the world while I'm here selling spare parts." Embarrassed, I tried to protest, but she hushed me. "It takes a brave mech to do what you're doing, and I am proud to love a mech like you."

She beamed and I wanted to kiss her more than anything, never mind that I seemed to crash every time I attempted it. I wanted to try again.

I pushed myself onto my elbows and moved to brush my mouthplates against hers.

Apis stayed stock-still, but as time passed and it became apparent that I was still conscious, she hesitantly moved to reciprocate. It was chaste, which I supposed was proper for a first kiss (those times I had crashed simply didn't count), and we parted as slowly as we'd come together.

"Nova, you… you didn't crash!" Apis said, and her proud joy made me grin and lean in again. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders while one of my hands moved to rest in the curve of her waist, the other cupping the back of her neck. I dared to trace the seam of her waist and she moaned quietly, lips parting under mine. I took the invitation and moved in deeper.

Our movements quickly became more confident as we pressed closer, vents humming, systems heated. I toppled us forward to grind my cockpit against her protruding chassis and she threw her head back, moaning as I tasted the cabling of her neck, and that sounded equally delicious so I moved up to kiss her again. This one was more passionate than the first two, glossas entwining, denta clacking and blissful, annoying darkness— _wait_ …

Fraggit.

I came online flat on my back with a giggling femme on my chest. Apis's mirth only increased at my frustrated groan and she leaned forward to softly brush her mouthplates against mine.

"Don't worry, love," she cooed, and Primus did that make my systems melt, and her wicked grin made yet another cooling fan kick in as she went on, "Practice makes perfect."

* * *

I felt wonderfully content and relaxed by the time we flew back to Kaon. I liked the physical outlet that Ramrod offered, but he'd said himself that emotional connection wasn't his strong suit. Apis reminded me who I was and why I was doing this.

We came in low over Kaon.

_/Finally home,/_ Hurricane said. _/I need a trip to the washracks… I think all this dust is jamming my—/_

Cannonfire rang out and Hurricane gave a squawk over the comm, falling, transforming, still falling, smoke trailing behind him. I dove after him but more fire brought me up short.

_/Hurricane! Hurricane, respond!/_

There was no answer. Lugnut sent a burst of static and though I couldn't understand his words, we both dove below the shots. We landed just outside the base, guns aimed, and I was about to demand an explanation when I recognized the mechs who had fired on us. I hadn't expected to see any of them again: Legonis, his face still warped and melted, Octus, and Seizer, flanked by Skystalker and Thunderwing. Legonis and Skystalker held Starscream between them, Legonis's blaster wedged under his jaw.

"Stand down and lower your weapons, or his face will end up like mine," Legonis commanded, blaster humming.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded, motioning for Lugnut to put his arms down.

"The meaning of this," Legonis answered, still not lowering his blaster, "is that leadership of the Decepticons has been taken over by the Triumvirate."


	20. Treason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You aren't as bad as Megatron, so I don't dislike you."

"What are you talking about?" I demanded. Legonis shoved his blaster harder under Starscream's jaw.

"I will only tell you once again," he said, not quite confident yet. "Lower your weapons."

I signaled to Lugnut to power down his weapons and slowly lowered my own arms. Nothing good would come of stubbornness now, not when we were outnumbered.

"Much better," Legonis said, relaxing, but still menacing Starscream with his blaster. "Now we can talk like civilized mechs."

Starscream snorted. "How civilized is it when you've got a blaster pointed at someone?"

Legonis snarled at him. "Don't test my temper."

"Why are you doing this?" I cut in before Starscream could inflame matters any further.

It was Octus who responded. "We simply feel that the Decepticon cause would be better served by another leader, or leaders. Someone with more experience, with more of a, hmm, Decepticon vision. Someone… less… Autobot."

Was this _really_ just because I didn't share their taste for devastation? I _knew_ the only way to end this war was not through senseless violence. The Autobots would hold an advantage if the Decepticons aimed solely at conquering city-state by city-state, as Starscream had.

"We don't want to terminate you," Seizer added. "The troops seem unusually fond of you, and explaining things could be difficult. But if you were to step aside and lend us your support, everything would go much more smoothly."

"That doesn't mean we won't kill you if you prove stubborn," continued Legonis. "Really, Nova." Somehow he made my name sound patronizing, like an insult. "You don't know how to handle an army. You lean on this traitor for everything…"

"You call _me_ traitor?!" Starscream burst out. Legonis sneered at him.

"At best you'd never be more than a puppet," he finished to me.

"How is that different than what you want for me? I will never follow you."

"Pity," Legonis said. "Well, I am confident that we'll have sufficient support from the rest of the command team. As you can see, Skystalker and Thunderwing have pledged us their loyalty."

Starscream shot a venomous glare at the other Seeker, who looked back with slowly smoldering satisfaction.

"It's nothing against you, Nova," Thunderwing told me. "You've been bearable. But you are an extension of Starscream's will, and Starscream never respected me."

"Trineless slag," Starscream hissed. Thunderwing crossed the distance between them in one stride, finger shooting out to point at me.

" _He_ is trineless!" he spat. "You would never change your opinion of him on that basis, I suppose, or you would give him new wingmates!" His voice lowered to a threatening, delighted purr. "I wonder, how will you like it when _you_ are trineless?"

Never had I seen Starscream's face twisted into such an expression of hatred as it now was. He spoke slowly and clearly, quietly, but I heard him perfectly. "If you touch my wingmates, I will make you beg for death."

Before either could speak again, there came a shout from behind us.

"Vhot is going on here?!"

I looked behind me to see Stryka, Soundwave, and Flamewar.

"Ah, Generals," Octus greeted. "We were about to summon you. We need witnesses for a shift in power."

"Vhot kind of 'shift?'"

"To us," Legonis said. "Your support is appreciated."

"You are presumink much," Stryka rumbled, coming up beside Lugnut. "And you are darink to point weapons at _my_ consort! Vhot is the meaning of this?"

"Patience, my dear femme. If Lugnut will lend us his strength, he will be unharmed."

"Zen I am your enemy, because he is never servink anyone but the true Decepticon leader," the massive warrior answered, tapping a finger on my shoulder – the equivalent of resting her hand there.

"Legonis: illogical," Soundwave put in. "Nova: superior."

"I don't know," Flamewar purred, and everyone looked at her. She smirked, putting her hands on her hips and turning her optics on me. "You're cute…" A teasing pause. "…but not _that_ cute. And you _did_ reject me for that sorry piece of scrap." She sauntered over, sliding between Legonis and Octus to lean on Legonis from behind. "You lot are just so… Decepticon."

I couldn't help but feel betrayed. I ought to have known. Flamewar was right, they were Decepticons through and through.

But Flamewar spoke again and I had to pay attention.

"But then… so am I," she said, and the end of an energon blade bloomed abruptly from Legonis's chest. Before the shell had hit the floor, she had turned on Octus, the next in line, and Starscream was free. In the split-klik of confusion, I hurled myself on the third member of the triumvirate, bringing him to the ground; in the same moment, I heard Soundwave ordering Frenzy and Rumble to eject, and Stryka barreled forward, roaring, " _No bot is threatenink my Luggy-Poo!_ " before hitting Skystalker with the force of a cannon blast.

By the time Seizer had stopped fighting and begun begging, Legonis and Octus had greyed over, as had what remained of Skystalker after he had endured Stryka's wrath. There were two mechs missing.

"Where are—"

A rushing whistle preceded a ground-shaking crash that flung those of us who were standing back several steps. I saw Starscream's red-and-white wings rising from the new crater. He perched on the sparking wreck of Thunderwing, who – amazingly – still functioned.

"Spare me," the weak voice rose. Starscream sneered.

"You threatened my wingmates." His null-rays powered up, bright and dangerous, point-blank at the other Seeker's helm. "Oh, wait… you wouldn't understand that."

Ordinarily Starscream's null-rays were nonlethal. At that range, to that delicate circuitry, they may as well have been a fusion cannon. Thunderwing shuddered, then collapsed back to the cracked metal beneath him. I turned my attention back on the final conspirator.

"Mercy," Seizer sobbed beneath me, cowardice coming to the surface at the collapse of his allies. "Mercy, Lord Nova, please, I beg of you!"

Part of me considered it, but the greater part knew that it could only lead to more trouble. I hooked my claws under his chestplate to lift him halfway and lodged my free arm rifle between the plating. "I thought you wanted me to act like a Decepticon."

I felt no remorse at his termination; had I left him alive, he'd have tried again. I stood and checked that none of the loyal mechs (and femmes) had been injured, then glared at Flamewar.

"What?" she asked. "You thought I'd actually work with them? Ugh!" She snickered. "Or are you just mad because I called your boytoy something mean?"

"Soundwave?"

"Commander?"

"Make sure that Flamewar gets a few shifts of monitor duty in the near future, will you?"

"Affirmative."

I probably shouldn't have gotten as much satisfaction out of Flamewar's pout as I did.

* * *

The first task after we gave the bodies to Undertaker ("Make sure those wings are intact, he should like that," I'd said) was to treat Hurricane's frame with more respect. I couldn't find it in myself to be too sad about his termination, since he'd wanted nothing more for decavorns. I resolved myself instead to wait patiently for a new trine. I wanted one of my own more than ever, but for now the gap yawned widely in my programming.

The attempted overthrow taught me caution and vigilance. Although I wouldn't admit it, it had also shaken my confidence. I wanted what was best for the Decepticons, and Legonis's poisonous words had found their mark: _You don't know how to handle an army._ _At best you'd never be more than a puppet_.

I found a new appreciation for Decepticon nature, and I was careful to keep my optics and audios finely tuned to catch any signs of unrest in the ranks. The closest thing to that was discontent among our fliers. It was nothing I could quantify, just a subtle hint in their manner, a tendency towards gloom and sorrow.

Starscream approached me on the subject before I could discover its root. I'd been discussing our resources with Shockwave – there were factories and refineries in Kaon and Tarn and Trypticon, but we had few mechs to spare to run them. We had energon for now, mostly from the stock buried beneath Trypticon, but our supply would not last forever. In addition, the Constructicons remained absent, and we'd received no reports of their whereabouts. We had a few generally useful medics, but if what I'd heard about the gestalt was true, we needed their aid in the most desperate of situations. While our basic medics could only do so much to deal with major wounds, we needed mechs with the Constructicons' training.

Shockwave spoke to the end of his sentence, then, not missing a beat, asked, "Did you require something, Starscream?"

"Yes. Him." Starscream tried to pull me away, but Shockwave interrupted.

"We are discussing matters of consequence."

"And I'm sure that Nova is bored out of his processor," responded Starscream glibly. "I'll send him back soon enough."

Without listening to Shockwave's protests, Starscream gripped my arm and towed me unceremoniously from the command center.

"Don't I get any say in this?"

"Of course not."

"Of course not, how silly of me, I'm only the Supreme Commander."

He shot me a sly grin. "Don't even try that on me, scraplet. I was leader before you could ingest your own energon."

"And you're my creator."

"Well, that too." He nudged his wing against mine. "Not that _that's_ much to brag about."

"I couldn't ask for a better one," I said, quiet and honest.

The smirk that tightened Starscream's mouthplates held an edge of pride and possibly an even more genuine emotion. "So you _do_ like me. At times I wonder."

"Sometimes I can't help but wonder whether _you_ like _me_."

"Do those times pass quickly?"

I laughed. "Sometimes 'sometimes' lasts for orns. Well? Is the great Starscream above liking?"

"I dislike to like," he answered. "But you aren't as bad as Megatron, so I don't _dis_ like you."

"Good enough. Did you come just to save me from terminal boredom, or do you actually have something to speak to me about?" I recognized that he was leading me towards the Tower.

"Actually, yes, I do. Our fliers have been getting restless."

"Yes, I noticed."

"Vos," Starscream said, and I looked at him in confusion.

"What of it?"

"Our home city, where most of us were built and Sparked. We haven't been there for… astrocycles, some of us. Centivorns at least."

"You want to take Vos." It wasn't a question.

"It's a strategic position, it's nearby, there are slaves there… it will improve morale."

I sighed through my vents. "What will we have to do to take the city?"

"I will lead the fliers we have here in Kaon. It will not take long: Vos was built for us, and groundpounders can barely move there, let alone hold it against an aerial assault. It won't take long at all."

"Fine," I decided. "When do we leave?"

"You will stay here."

"What?!" I stopped. "What do you mean, I'll stay here? I won't stay behind when there's a battle to be fought!"

Starscream stopped as well, turning to face me. "You will. You'll stay behind and help Soundwave sniff out our spy. It begins now: I've just called all fliers to the Tower. They will be the only ones who know our destination. If the Autobots are ready for us, then a flier has betrayed us. If not, a groundpounder."

"Right… but I'll need your help."

"You don't need my help," he said softly. After a moment he grinned again. "You'll have Soundwave to take care of you, and I'll be back soon to keep everything from falling apart." He gestured up at the Tower's entrance over our heads. "Shall we?"

We flew up together, coming out into the large space where fliers collected. It didn't take long for the air force to gather; they all knew where they were headed, and it excited them.

"An impressive sight," I said, and I meant it. Assembled before me were fliers of every build: shuttles, gliders, Seekers, spinners, stealth planes, tetrajets, atmo jets. And at their head stood Starscream, all sleek lines and smooth, aerodynamic plates. He smiled at my words and turned to address his troops.

"Brethren of the air!" he called, and all optics were on him immediately, mine included. "Brothers," Starscream added to his wingmates alone, before returning his attention to the fliers at large. "We fly to Vos!"

The reaction was a roar that simultaneously made me want to offline my audios and dial them louder. Each winged creature expressed his joy differently, but all were united in their longing for their home. Starscream basked in it, his optics narrowing into slits. The gathering gradually hushed, all staring intently at their commander in rapt anticipation. For a nano-klik that felt like an astrocycles, there was utter silence, as each mech waited for the order. Starscream, if possible, held himself higher.

"Decepticons," he said, "transform and rise up!"

They complied with a roar of thrusters and a deafening cacophony of shifting plates and grinding gears. I would have given almost anything to join them. But my duty was to remain in Kaon, so I watched the armada take to the sky, Starscream at its apex. The scream of their engines echoed in my audios long after they had vanished from sight.

* * *

"All right, Soundwave," I said, sitting down across from him. "How do you intend to catch the spy?"

"Method: telepathy."

I tilted my head doubtfully. "You mean to search every processor in this army until you find an Autobot?"

"Affirmative."

"Then start with the command team," I told him. "That's the most urgent."

"Affirmative." Soundwave's helm dipped, then lifted. "Suggestion: begin immediately?"

"Yes, excellent."

I was about to get up when a chilly tingle whirled through my fuel lines. I hit the seat again, feeling Soundwave's consciousness brush against mine. "Me?" I managed.

"Above suspicion: none."

I shuddered at the feeling of his mind within my processor before it vanished. I knew he was still there, since he wasn't speaking.

How unnerving, knowing that he could read my thoughts… that he could see everything, from my earliest childhood memories to my close moments with Starscream, from my intimate encounters with Ramrod to my tender moments with Apis to…

Optimus. My Spark lurched – he would see our rendezvous. What would he do? What would he say?

It was a short while before Soundwave's visor flashed and his hold released. "Task: completed."

He said nothing more. I waited for it, sure that any moment he would ask why I'd gone to see Optimus. It had to be coming.

But still Soundwave remained silent, regarding me impassively. I shifted, uncertain.

"Concern: unnecessary," Soundwave intoned. "Your reasoning: understood."

Air hissed out of my vents in a sigh of relief. "Thank you. You should move on to the others."

"Affirmative." The Communications Officer rose, inclined his head in my direction, and carried on.

* * *

I was in the command center when the reports started coming in from Vos. It infuriated me not to be there, seeing and hearing it all for myself. My control over the battle was diluted by distance, but Starscream was at his best, directing the aerial troops with far greater competence than I could have.

Finally, the welcome call came that the Autobots were retreating. I allowed myself to sit down for the first time in megacycles. Someone brought me a cube of energon and I gulped it down, suddenly realizing just how low my fuel had gotten.

"Leave a portion of your force there," I commanded, relaying my orders to Starscream through Soundwave. "Bring the freed mechs back here."

"The Autobots flee towards Praxus," he answered. "Our fliers have an advantage over them in speed; we could stop them before they reach their destination."

"No. They retreat, so let them go. We can take things next to Praxus."

"All right, _fine_. We'll get some settled in here and be on our way tomorrow." He cut the link without so much as a farewell… typical Starscream.

"Have Trannis come back with some of the force at Trypticon," I said. "Our next destination is Praxus."

They obeyed without question. It was strange that I felt inclined to push for Praxus; perhaps it was the exhaustion. Yet Praxus was an Autobot military stronghold, no civilians, and the move was justified.

We'd been shown good fortune so far; perhaps it was time to truly put it to the test.


	21. Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Autobots must have something planned."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Certain scenes in this chapter were a collaboration with thedaringplatypus.

In Starscream's quarters, the four of us celebrated the victory at Vos with high-grade.

"They were completely unprepared," Starscream said, swirling the energon in his cube. "Our Autobot spy obviously isn't a flier." He snickered. "Not that I doubted it. Groundpounders can't be trusted."

"Some would say the same of fliers," Thundercracker pointed out. Though he'd already had a considerable amount of high-grade, he didn't show the slightest sign of inebriation.

"What? Screamer's the most trustworthy person I know!" giggled Skywarp; he was much less successful at holding his energon.

" _Don't_ _call me that!_ "

Skywarp snuggled shamelessly up to him, nuzzling beneath his jaw. "Aww, Screamer, don't be mad!"

"Starscream," Thundercracker said softly, deflating his wingleader, who had looked ready to pummel Skywarp. That was all it took, without any more words, without any sharpness in his tone. We shared a smile.

"How much of the command team has Soundwave scanned?" Starscream asked, letting Skywarp off with a warning.

He was difficult to take seriously while his wingmate hung on him like that. "Almost all. Trannis should arrive within a few orns; he's the last."

"Bet you'll like that," tittered Skywarp. "Since your cutie's with him."

" _'Warp_ ," Thundercracker reprimanded as my faceplates heated up.

"What? It's no secret!"

"We're quieter than you three," I countered, prompting a hoot from the black-and-purple Seeker. Before he could respond, Thundercracker stepped in to change the subject.

"Praxus next? I thought you didn't want to go on the offensive any more than you had to."

"Well, why shouldn't he?" Starscream demanded. "It's our right. They took everything from us. Why should we leave anything to them?"

Thundercracker said nothing, but his optics were dim and thoughtful as he sipped his energon. "You are the commander, Nova. We trust you."

* * *

" _What?_ " I snarled into Shockwave's face. "First I was kept from Vos on the pretense of monitoring Soundwave as he did something he was _perfectly_ capable of doing on his own, and now you want me to stay here while everyone else goes to Praxus? What's your story this time? Is there a leaky energon dispenser I need to investigate? Did a light short out? Is there a crack in the wall for me to oversee personally?"

"There will be competent generals directing the battle," Shockwave said. "Starscream has seen to that."

"I won't stay behind, nice and cozy and safe, while troops under my command go into battle!" I burst out. "I'm sending mechs to die and you tell me to stay here? At least have the backstrut to tell me why!"

A pause. Then Starscream looked at Shockwave. "He's right."

"We agreed—"

"Slag what we agreed." He turned to me. "The Senate has ordered your capture or termination at all costs."

"Is that all?" I laughed. " I was already working under that assumption. I can take care of myself."

"No, you can't." The bland statement made me hiss furiously, but Starscream was unimpressed. "You're a good fighter, everyone knows that. But you have no trine to watch your back. Not every Autobot is Prime's friend. They won't all be reluctant to kill you."

"I—"

"You have _become_ the Decepticon cause, Nova. If you fall, so do we. You are more than our leader. You are a symbol. It is imperative that you remain free and functional." He held up a hand to forestall anything that I might have said. "Without you we would fall apart into endless power struggles." He paused, optics dimming. "That's why we lost before. You will join us in battle soon, but as long as you're trineless, you are unprotected."

I understood Starscream's logic, but I hated it.

"Are you certain you wish to send in the army now, Commander?" Shockwave asked. "After all, there is a spy among us. It may be wiser to gather more intelligence first."

"That would allow the Autobots more time to prepare," I answered. I had confidence in our victory—we had not lost yet. "Very well, Starscream, you win. I'll stay here."

* * *

As the troops advanced towards Praxus, I conferred with Soundwave regarding his investigation of my command team. He'd conducted a thorough examination of each mind in turn, beginning with me and ending with Trannis, who had come from Trypticon and paused in Kaon for three orns to refresh his mechs before moving on to Praxus, where he, Starscream, and Thundercracker would lead the assault.

I barely left the command center, recharging only when Skywarp wrestled me into my quarters and stood guard at the door, refueling only when one of my Decepticons pressed a cube into my hands. Starscream and Thundercracker had gone without Skywarp because in this battle they would act as generals, not as a trine. I suspected another motive: someone had to stay to keep an optic on me. Neither of us was happy about being left behind.

We encountered the first Autobot resistance at the border of Praxus. The opening skirmish resulted in few casualties, since the Autobots retreated swiftly before our larger force.

"Good luck," Skywarp guessed.

" _Too_ good," I muttered. I paced around the command center. "Soundwave, tell them to be watchful," I told the Communications Officer. He nodded and relayed my order.

My predictable path around the room was soon cleared without prompting. Additional skirmishes pushed the megacycles past. The Autobots had set no large force against us.

"Tell them to send up aerial scouts," I said. "Make sure they aren't attacked from behind."

The scouts reported no Autobot activity in the army's wake, yet even so, I had a bad feeling about this.

"Perhaps they were not forewarned of our coming?" Shockwave ventured.

"Impossible," I replied. "This assault has been common knowledge among the ranks for a decacycle. The Autobots must have something planned."

Scarcely had I uttered this when communications went dead. I vaulted to the upper level in a thruster-propelled leap, landing beside Soundwave.

"What happened?"

"Equipment here: functional. Malfunction: Praxus."

White noise and static came from the speakers.

"Fix it! We have to know what's going on out there."

"Attempting to execute."

"This was no coincidence. We're being blocked?"

"Affirmative. Outside force: unknown. Hypothesis: Autobots."

"You _think?_ Hurry, Soundwave."

"Laserbeak: en route."

I turned to see Skywarp pacing back and forth. An awful sense of foreboding hung over me.

Then, quite suddenly, Skywarp screamed.

It was deafeningly loud. He collapsed to his knees with an electronic keen, wings trembling. I motioned the others back and crouched beside him.

"What's wrong?" I demanded. Skywarp shook his head violently.

"I don't know… it's like—like my Spark is being torn in half…" His optics flared in horrified realization. I realized it an instant later. Something had happened to one of his wingmates. Something terrible. But who—Thundercracker or Starscream?

A voice broke weakly through the static. "—nder… Commande-! –Sharpshooter here—in trouble—tobots came up fr—nderground, took us by—driven back—ambush…!"

"Soundwave, strengthen that signal. Sharpshooter, report."

"—ame up from the tunnels prac—lly right under our pedes… swarmed right over us… separated from each other. Can't f—d Trannis's group—nomech knows what to do, comm is out—Thundercr—r down, Stormfront down, Cloudch—er down—"

"Fall back," I commanded. "Get them to fall back, any way that you can, just get out of there and return to Decepticon territory."

"Affirmative. S—ooter out."

I stared at the blank screens. My memory banks helpfully supplied the faces of the mechs I'd sent to Praxus. I knew many personally. How many would I see alive again?

"TC!"

Skywarp's loud, anguished sob wrenched at my Spark; I knelt beside him, so close that mere astroinches separated us. Skywarp reached up to tip my head forward as he bowed his own, touching our helms together in an ancient Seeker symbol for deepest grief. My Spark twisted in its casing; he had lost a wingmate, a bondmate, and I was the one responsible.

I couldn't endure it any more. "Send out fliers to cover their retreat," I ordered, then left before I lost control.

My altmode sliced through the sky over Kaon as I chased random patterns, pushing myself to top speed. I remembered the trail Thundercracker had led me along over Iacon, the loops and rolls and free-falls. But now there was no other Seeker darting sky-and-quicksilver ahead of me, no hands stroking my wings and comforting me until I slipped into recharge, no steadying voice breaking into Skywarp's and Starscream's bickering.

Thundercracker was gone.

Far above the city, I transformed and screamed until my voice broke into static.

When I had regained my composure, I flew back to headquarters, coming in through one of the less popular sky entrances to avoid everyone. I didn't have the struts to deal with their disappointment right now.

I entered my quarters, but I didn't feel much like recharging, nor like drinking a cube.

Defeat. It was the first time my Decepticons hadn't been victorious in battle, and I felt the full weight of it. I should have been cautious, should have listened to Thundercracker, to Shockwave, to my own niggling doubts, but I'd been overconfident. I'd forgotten sense and sent those mechs to Praxus. Already the loss bit deep. What of the other mechs who'd gone? What of Trannis? What if Starscream didn't make it back?

My energon turned to ice. _Ramrod_. He was in Trannis's unit… what had been his fate?

Restless and worried, I left my quarters and went to the command center. The reports continued to be bleak; few groups had made it out of range of the Autobots' jammers.

"I'm going to look for them," I told Skywarp.

"Stay here," he answered hoarsely. "Starscream's all right, I'd know if he wasn't."

"Everyone else is on patrol. The Autobots will never know the difference between me and the next Seeker. I have to find Trannis."

"Starscream would want you to take someone along."

"Whatever you say," I replied. He managed the shadow of a smile.

"Lugnut," he called, crooking a finger. "Go with him."

I shot a disbelieving look at the hulking green mech who approached.

"It is an honor to protect you, Lord Nova," Lugnut answered worshipfully; his vocalizer had received its final repair a decacycle before. I'd preferred his silence.

"Commander," I muttered automatically.

Frustrated at being saddled with the slow bomber, I intentionally pushed my engines faster, trying to leave him behind. Tarn flowed past beneath us, vast stretches of war-shattered metal. The canyons of Vos spread far in the distance. Thundercracker would be laid to rest there when his body was brought back.

We neared the border of Tarn and Praxus. Lugnut was far behind me, barely within range of my sensors. I transformed to bipedal mode, scanning the ground far below for any sign of the missing Decepticons as I dipped lower.

The attack came from an area scarred and pitted by heavy fire. The sky was suddenly bright with laser fire and I pulled up sharply, firing back in confusion. I couldn't see where it was coming from. I was outnumbered and outgunned; I couldn't last long against an unknown number of mechs.

Lugnut joined the fray late, thanks to my impatience. I sent out a distress call to any Decepticons in the vicinity as explosions blossomed below, courtesy of Lugnut's missiles. After a moment's pause, the Autobots fired back in a renewed flurry. I heard Lugnut grunt as he took damage, but I soon had more pressing matters to worry about as something slammed into my leg. It wasn't an energy blast, rather something solid which melted through my armor and shattered the primary support strut in my calf. Shock made my thrusters stutter to a halt and I had a klik to stare before the pain hit and I began to fall.

Large hands caught me before I struck the ground, cushioning the blow as we struck Cybertron with a jarring crash. I cried out in pain as my useless leg twisted under me at an awkward angle. Lugnut moved surprisingly quickly, leaping away from the crash site with me held close to his broad frame and finding a cave in which to shelter. Carefully, he put me down near the wall, helping me to sit against it. I hissed through my denta as the slight movement sent a bright flare of pain up my leg and thruster.

"Are you all right, my lord?"

" _Commander._ Do I _look_ all right?" I snarled back, angrier at myself than at my well-meaning protector. Lugnut's single optic flickered.

"Your left leg is useless from the knee down, your thrusters have been warped out of shape from overheating, and your wings—"

"I know!" I spat, careful not to be too loud in case the Autobots were nearby. "You think I don't know that I should have been more careful, more aware of my surroundings?" I'd held my glossa for long enough, and now it was all spilling out. "You think I don't realize that I'm screwing things up at every turn? That I don't notice how you all look at me? Expecting me to be just like him, but then disappointed that I'm nowhere near as good a leader as he was? Well, here's news: I'm not Megatron and I'll never measure up to him, but I'm tired of you all expecting me to be him—I'm my own person and I have my own way of doing things! I'm not a clone, not a droid, and—"

Lugnut's heavy, pincered hand pressed against my face, shutting me up. Thwarted mid-rant, I glared at him as he crouched over me.

"I apologize if my interruption was too bold, my L—Commander," Lugnut said, "but you doubt yourself too much. You unnerve the soldiers because you look like the glorious Lord Megatron. Lord Megatron was the only leader that any of us ever accepted."

"Starscream led the Decepticons between Megatron's reign and mine. You all accepted him as leader."

"We never accepted him."

"He's done a fragging lot better than I have."

"We do not trust him. He undermined our magnificent leader, trying to terminate him and take his place. He worked too hard for too long to get to the top, so we suspect him for giving it so easily to you. He may still be plotting your overthrow or to manipulate you to achieve his own needs." He puffed up in pride. "I will lay down my Spark to protect you, both from the unworthy, mud-grubbing Autobots and from traitors within our midst as well."

"You say that as if I am a leader worth keeping in command."

"I will show you." He held out a hand. "A databurst may attract the Autobots. I will transfer the data manually."

I extended my arm, clicking open the dataports in my wrist. He plugged himself in and began the data transfer.

The memory-sharing was as intense as it had been when Starscream had shown me Megatron's termination. I was there, watching through Lugnut's optic as a mech I'd only seen in memories, a mech who looked eerily like me, roared in defiance as he led Decepticons into battle.

Megatron.

Lugnut had been _devoted_ to Megatron. I could see now that what looked like fanatical obsession from the outside was actually a Spark-deep belief that Megatron was right. Lugnut had, for all intents and purposes, _loved_ Megatron.

The images shifted, touching briefly on Starscream, tinted with distaste and distrust, watching as he tried to dethrone the mighty Megatron. They skipped briefly over the tragedy of Megatron's deactivation, passed swiftly through vorns of slavery, and finally settled on a young Seeker.

Nova, who looked so much like Lugnut's beloved Megatron; Nova, who, for all his Autobot upbringing, had found the truth in the Decepticon way, who had cast off that hideous red symbol for Decepticon purple and claimed his rightful place at the head of their army, to lead them from the oppression of slavery, to remind Cybertron that they were Decepticons and they would not be forgotten.

He disconnected, leaving me quietly stunned. In the wake of the disastrous defeat earlier, I'd been so convinced that they would all direct their anger at me that I hadn't even considered the possibility that they might forgive me.

Sounds from outside our little haven made both of us look up. The Autobots were looking for us.

Lugnut began to stand.

"What are you _doing?_ "

"I will destroy them before you are discovered," he said. "Remain here."

As if I had much of a choice with my leg in its present state. I stayed where I was as he left our little cave. After a moment I heard voices.

"You! Decepticon! Stop right there. Where's that Seeker who went down with you?"

"Terminated," Lugnut rumbled.

I heard a sound. _The_ sound. The sound of Lugnut's "Punch of Kill Everything," lovingly named by the ground troops, charging up. I shielded my head with my arms and shuttered my optics against the flash to come.

The explosion rattled my audios; debris clattered against my armor and the ground. Smoke drifted past. A few kliks later, Lugnut reappeared in the entrance to our cave.

"Autobots neutralized," he reported, bending his considerable bulk to support me as I struggled upright. "Can you fly?"

I tried to put my weight on my leg and hissed in pain. "Doesn't feel like it."

"I would be honored to carry you."

"I don't need to be _carried_ ," I said hastily. Carried! Like a sparkling! "Just help me."

We got out of the cave, out into the open. I saw the impact crater of Lugnut's explosive punch; there was no sign of the Autobots. As Lugnut prepared to take off, something pinged my sensors.

"I'm picking up a Decepticon energy signature," I told him. "They must be responding to our signal."

The forerunner of the approaching Decepticons was a welcome sight—one of Trannis's mechs. He stumbled up to us, expressing his delight through hand gestures and internal comm. His vocalizer spat sparks as he tried to speak.

"Where's the rest of your unit, soldier?" I asked. He motioned to the jagged canyons behind him.

_/The ground troops are on their way, sir,/_ he commed. _/We got your distress call. Though we could use some help ourselves. The air forces circled southeast towards Kaon./_

"And Trannis?"

"Here, Commander." I turned to see the remainder of Trannis's army staggering into the open. All looked the worse for wear. Trannis himself was in the lead, chin held high despite an obvious patch job on his chest. At his side walked Ramrod, dented, smudged, one arm crushed and mangled. "Reporting back from Praxus, sir."

"What happened?" I asked, trying to take a step and grabbing onto Lugnut for support.

"My field medic can patch you until Kaon," Trannis said, motioning an energon-stained mech forward. I found a place to sit and let the medic go to work as Trannis recounted what had happened.

"We'd just gotten into the city's central sector when they ambushed us. The Autobots came out of the tunnels under the city, cut off our retreat while the rest of them attacked from the front and sides… used our own strategy from Kaon against us. They were ready for our aerial forces as well, with some sort of new weapon. They jammed our communications so we couldn't regroup. The fliers were decimated. It was a massacre. This is all that remains of my army, as far as I know."

"They knew you were coming," I said. "They were ready. I should have waited for more information."

"What's done is done," Trannis answered. "We learn from our mistakes."

I flexed my ankle joint when prompted by the medic, and spoke again. "Thundercracker fell?"

"I didn't see it myself, but some of my mechs did. I hope he fell among our own."

I nearly purged my tanks at the thought of Thundercracker's frame with his wings stripped off. "It's good that you escaped relatively functional."

"Thanks to this one," Trannis replied, reaching out to pull Ramrod closer by a hand on his shoulder. "He saved my life. I didn't know I had a commander in my ranks, but I'm glad of him now. I'm not letting him out of my sight from now on."

I smiled at Ramrod, who managed a tired grin back. "I'm glad you brought him back to us," I said. _To me_. I had already lost one mech I loved today. I couldn't stand to lose anyone else.

I stood, testing my leg. It wasn't fully repaired and I didn't trust my thrusters, but at least the pain receptors had been dampened.

"You can give a full debriefing before the rest of the command staff. For now, let's get back to Kaon for repairs."

* * *

Lugnut flew me back to Kaon, but I sent fliers to cover the returning army in case any bold Autobots tried to finish them off. Starscream grumbled all through my repairs (which he would allow no one else to conduct), but I could still detect sorrow and anxiety in his words and actions. Clearly he, too, was worried about Thundercracker's remains.

We weren't left in suspense for long. The orn after the disastrous battle, Crosswind's trine arrived. Between the three of them they carried Thundercracker's frame. After seeing that his wings remained attached and proud, I left Starscream and Skywarp alone with their wingmate and retreated to the command center, where I buried myself in logistics.

After the devastating defeat at Praxus, half of the army was in disrepair, we had lost many of our mechs, we were _still_ short on medics, and our energon supply was dwindling.

I slipped out of Kaon without letting Starscream know. I didn't want anyone with me this time.

I came in fast over Khalkon and skidded to a halt in bipedal mode just outside of Steelcrusher's shop, sending a billow of dust into the air. Apis was at the counter when I entered. She took one look at my face and her expression morphed into worry and concern.

"Go upstairs," she whispered. "I'm off shift in 5.3 breems."

I went up the back stairs and into Apis's room, around her projects scattered across the floor, and to the berth. I lay down, covering my face with my arms as I offlined my optics. I lay silent and unmoving. Cycles counted past on my chronometer as I tried to lose myself in thoughtless oblivion.

A gentle hand on my wing summoned me back. I onlined my optics to find Apis sitting on the edge of her berth.

"I heard about Praxus," she whispered. "It was on the Autobot data network—they're acting like it's the end of the war. Like they've won."

"It's not the end."

"I didn't know whether you were there or not. I was worried about you."

"I wasn't. But Thundercracker, he…" I choked on the words. "We lost many soldiers."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I know it's hard."

I lay still while she petted my helm.

"There was a slave revolt in Gygax." I onlined my optics at her words, sitting up.

"I hadn't heard that."

"I've heard reports of rebellions in other Autobot city-states, also. The Autobots are getting nervous. The revolt in Gygax happened this past night-cycle. Even after Praxus, they still wanted to be free. That wouldn't have happened half a centivorn ago, Nova. You've started something."

"I owe it to them to finish it," I answered. "I didn't know anyone was paying attention."

"You've gotten _everyone's_ attention. We get more escaped Decepticons than ever through here. You're all they talk about. Even the Neutrals have changed. I hear everyone talking, all the time. They're interested in what's going on. We all wait for news… me most of all. Every time someone mentions your name, I have to hope that the next words won't be… The Senate is afraid of you, Nova."

"I doubt it. I'm not much of a threat."

"I'm serious. They have a reward out for you, you know. It goes up every orn."

"How much is it now?"

"More than the shop earns in an entire vorn. Enough to make anyone dizzy just thinking about it. They really want you captured or terminated, Nova. This war does funny things to mechs. Everyone's changing."

"The world is changing, Apis," I murmured, brushing my knuckles against her cheek. "And I'm right in the middle of things." I felt her tremble and leaned in, caressing the side of her helm as I bumped our foreheads together. I tried to lighten my tone. "It's all right—"

"No, it's _not_ all right! Every time…" A grinding mechanical sob escaped her vocalizer. "Every time you leave, I worry that you might not come back." The last bit was murmured against the palm of my hand.

She raised her optics to mine, and the strength I found there awed me. "Autobots were not meant to lord over Decepticons, and Decepticons weren't meant to lord over Autobots. We are all equal, and we need someone to step up and remind everyone. We need someone to rise up and lead the Decepticons to freedom, to put all of Cybertron back on the proper path."

She threaded her fingers through mine, never breaking my gaze.

"That person is you, Nova. You're the one Cybertron needs." Her other hand curled around my head vent, pulling me closer. "The one _I_ need," she whispered against my lips.

Her conviction sent a deep warmth curling through my Spark. My hands curled around her hips, holding her close, and hers were draped over my shoulders, twined behind my head. We fell in a tangled pile on the floor.

Being with Apis was different than being with Ramrod. With Ramrod it was all heat and hurried, wanting neediness, expressing itself through rough touches and subtle trips to a medic afterwards to bang out the dents. Apis was soft, soothing touches and easy kisses. Different, but no less arousing, and in no time, between the kisses and the touches to my wings and cockpit, I was ready for more.

So was Apis. Dragging my fingers along the points where her front wheel locked onto her back made her moan and melt atop me, and stroking the back of her neck made her purr. I'd been doing both for some time now, and while she was draped over me with her engine purring away, she was also petting more insistently at my cockpit.

Which gave me a sudden, crazy idea.

"Do you…" I trailed off, stroking her chestplates over her Spark. Apis's optics snapped back to full power and she pulled back to stare down at me.

"You want to Sparkmerge?"

"It's all right if you don't want—"

A shy, beautiful smile broke out over her face. "Of course I want to. I didn't think you'd ever ask."

She bent to kiss me again, her chestplates parting. Her Spark flared out through the small crack of her open chamber. In response, my own chestplates started to split.

We both hesitated with our casings cracked only a hair, but as we stared with nervous anticipation at each other's Sparks, the shy chambers opened until our Sparks extended tendrils to reach out and twine around one another. Our bodies followed until only a matter of astroinches separated us and a web of star-bright filaments stretched between us like tiny bridges.

"Ready?" Apis said, her fingers threading through mine and flexing nervously.

I cycled a deep intake and nodded, squeezing her hands and smiling up at her. "Yes."

And we leaned forward and touched our Sparks together.

We arched and cried out, interlaced hands clenching tighter and heads falling back at our first connection. I could _feel_ her—this was just as intense as she remembered. I was nearly overwhelmed by the wonderful, unbearable sensations.

I felt that she'd done this once before, long ago with her best friend when they had been trying to figure out whether their feelings ran deeper than friendship. It hadn't worked out, but she and Shortstop were still best friends, closer to each other than anyone else save perhaps 'Crusher and me.

This was different. There was a _connection_ , a feeling that this was _right_ , that I was safe and loving and everything she'd ever want or need.

In return I gave her all of me, all the pain of the past several orns, but more than despair and grief. There were other feelings to give: my love for Optimus, Starscream, Ramrod, but especially Apis herself.

No one could last very long once a Sparkmerge began, and it wasn't long before the sheer depth of emotion returned tenfold; that was enough to send us crying out into overload.

* * *

Later, while we lay entwined, Apis sprawled out over my front and toying with my pectoral vents while I indulged my fascination with her handlebars, Apis brought up the topic of the war again.

"Do you have any trouble getting supplies?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked, still partially in the haze of relaxation. I relinquished her handlebars and dragged my fingers down her back. She shivered and scowled at me.

"'M trying t'be serious, slagger. Stoppit." She kicked her legs, but I just grinned up at her. "'nyways, sup'lies. Like, not energon… stuff fer repairs, buildin' materials… y'know, tha' sor'a stuff."

I couldn't quite bring myself to be completely serious yet. "Have I told you recently how adorable your accent is?" I purred against her neck, but she smacked the side of my head and reminded me that she was trying to hold a serious conversation here, thank you very much. She even made sure to erase the accent (it only came out when she was angry or _distracted_ ).

"Occasionally," I admitted. "We don't have many suppliers, and our own factories aren't quite up and running yet, so right now we're dependent on whatever we can take over from the Autobots."

"Thought so," she said, trailing one finger down the slats of one of my head vents. "Well, if you _do_ need supplies, I'm sure you'd find plenty of people around here willing to help. The younger ones especially, who chose no symbol because we believe that there's no need for symbols to divide us, to mark us as different."

"Like you?"

She grinned. "Yes, like me. I'll give you and Starscream and Skywarp free parts anyway, but I'm sure I can convince 'Crusher to spare some shipments every now and then. And I'd bet Percy and Grapple and Hoist would be plenty willing to help out too, not to mention Scrapper and his gang and a whole list of others."

I tilted her face up with my fingers. "You would do that?" I asked. "That shop is all you have. If you don't make enough credits, you can't get all the energon you need, and…"

"I have you, too, you know," she reminded me. "And I would lose the store a thousand times over if it meant keeping you."

I crushed her to me in a hug, hiding my face in the crook of her neck, not sure what I had done to deserve a femme such as this.

* * *

I refused to take anyone with me to the presumably abandoned warehouse in a Tarnish wasteland. I was determined to accomplish this on my own, to restore my faith in myself.

I heaved the door open just enough to slip inside. I adjusted my optics to the darkness and looked around. Everything was dusty and long-unused, but a trail led through the dust on the floor. I followed it through the empty room to another door. This one opened suspiciously easily, without even a creak.

Now cautious, I went into the next dark room, switching my optics to infrared.

The sudden glow was the only warning I received before I was seized from behind, a strong set of arms curling around my wings to pull me off balance in a painful hold. I struggled, kicking backwards, but the five additional heat signatures discouraged me. Four glowing red visors and one set of crimson optics glowed in my direction, in addition to the one holding me.

"Lights," someone commanded, and the lights came up to reveal a group of hefty, faded purple-and-green mechs; they looked perfectly capable of taking me apart piece by piece if they chose. All bore the outline of a Decepticon symbol, but that placed no damper on their hostility.

"What do you want?" the one in the lead asked. Like Soundwave, he wore both a visor and a mask.

"He wants us to join the Decepticons," another answered before I could get a word in.

"No, he wants _Devastator_ to join the Decepticons," a snootier voice added. "I'm just—"

"We know who you are. We don' want anythin' to do with it," the first one interrupted me. "There's a reason we didn't go back."

"Tell him, Scrapper. It's nothing but work, work, work with the Decepticons," another grumbled. "Long Haul, do this. Long Haul, do that. I wasn't made just to carry stuff around, you know."

"Yes, you _were_ ," another of the Constructicons added, very quietly.

"Look—" I wiggled a bit, but the one behind me still held fast. "At least hear me out."

"Let me guess: we're a vital part of the Decepticon cause, you can't do anything without us, you need our help to kick Autobot aft…"

"That's not what I want!"

"I don't like liars," the mech who held me growled, his grip tightening painfully on my wings. "Can't we just toss him in Mixmaster's tank and get rid of him?"

"I think we should listen to him."

"You're defective."

"I'm just sayin' it couldn't hurt!"

"We'll listen to 'im. Bonecrusher, put 'im down."

"This is not a democracy," one of the others shot back.

"I know. _I'm_ the leader, _I_ say we hear him out."

" _I'm_ the _head_. I say toss him into Mixmaster."

I gave my input. "For what it's worth, I'm with Scrapper."

A few of them chuckled; the others glared.

"There's the tiebreaker. Let 'im go, Bonecrusher. You can always have some of 'im later if we don't like what 'e has to say."

Bonecrusher reluctantly released me. I flexed my wings, checking that they were undamaged.

"Thank you," I told them first. This wasn't exactly what I'd planned, but I'd have to work with it. "You already know who I am?"

"We figured it wouldn't be long before you came to get us. Thought you'd come with backup to drag us back."

"I'm not forcing anyone to join. I thought you would be willing to support the Decepticons after being enslaved by the Autobots." I looked at Scrapper. "I remember you from Iacon."

"And he never let us forget it, either," Long Haul grumbled. "Braggin' all the time about knowing you when you was a little scraplet."

Scrapper cuffed him over the helm as I filed away that tidbit—I had at least one admirer among the Constructicons, and Scavenger also seemed to lean towards me.

"Look," Scrapper said. He shifted uncomfortably. "We're all for the cause. No one's saying we ain't. But, well… we're _Construct_ icons. We _build_ stuff. But all Megatron ever told us to do was _destroy_ it. It was all about Devastator."

"I'm not interested in mindless destruction," I told them. " I don't hate the Autobots. I'm not like Megatron. If you know of me, you already know that."

They looked at each other doubtfully.

"You sure look like him to me," one said.

I sighed through my vents. "I know."

_Challenge them,_ my intuition told me. Living in this old warehouse probably didn't give the Constructions much to do.

"Here's the situation." I looked earnestly into each visor as I spoke. I hoped I could be certain of them; I didn't want this information spread around. "After the defeat at Praxus, half of my army is in no condition to fight. They're badly injured and we have few qualified medics. If the Autobots attacked now, we would collapse. We are in desperate need of medics to repair and upgrade us. And Kaon is half in ruins. We need builders. Without you, the Decepticons face defeat. We _need_ you." A hesitation. " _I_ need you."

There, everything on the table. For a time the gestalt discussed silently.

"Well!" the snooty one said. "Finally a leader who appreciates _art_."

"So you mean we can do somethin' besides destroying stuff?" Scrapper asked.

"Yes."

"Looks like you win."

"And it's back to work," Long Haul complained. "Work, work, work."

"Your wings ain't angled right," Bonecrusher rumbled at me before rambling away, muttering dire threats.

"You're lucky he didn't take 'em," the other—I assumed from the large cylinder on his back that this was Mixmaster – told me. "Anythin' that ain't perfect, Bonecrusher breaks."

"And _who_ is responsible for that shoddy patch-job on your leg?"

"Starscream."

The Constructicon scoffed. "Starscream is a field medic, not a professional. You should be repaired only by the best."

"Enough, Hook, we know you're a genius." Scrapper sighed. "From your report, er, Commander Nova, we better get to work right away."

* * *

In a much better mood, I returned to Kaon. As I entered our airspace, Skywarp appeared next to me. After a cheerful hail, he maintained radio silence despite my repeated inquiries. He merely kept pace to my left.

Finally, Starscream shrieked past, engines screaming as he dipped in to take the lead. He wouldn't respond to my questions, so I resigned myself to silence.

Starscream suddenly veered up and to the right; Skywarp followed and I moved to avoid running into him. After that I took it as a challenge, a way to work off my anxieties and fine-tune some maneuvers. Starscream put us through our paces, but I kept up doggedly even through the trickiest acrobatics.

By the time Starscream finally slowed and angled towards the Tower, my fuel level was low and my thrusters aching. It was a satisfying feeling.

We transformed and landed near the top level. Skywarp clung to my arm.

"Nova, Nova, you were amazing!"

"Good enough," Starscream said, but the pride in his voice made my Spark warm. "You'll do."

"What?"

"You'll do," he repeated impatiently. "You kept up, didn't you? _I_ taught you personally, didn't I?"

"What he _means_ , Nova, is that he wants you to be our second."

I stared at him, then at Starscream. "What… your trine?"

Trine. Their trine… where Thundercracker had flown with them. I couldn't replace him. I could never be for them what he had been.

"I don't understand," I told them. "I can't be your wingmate. I'm not good enough."

"Are you implying that my teaching wasn't enough?" Starscream snapped.

"You're a wonderful flier," Skywarp added. "You flew with us just now and Starscream was pulling out all the stops."

"That's not what I meant. I… I couldn't…"

Unexpectedly, Skywarp threw his arms around my waist in a quick, tight hug. His expression was unusually serious. Looking into his face, I knew that he still mourned Thundercracker and always would. "Nova… me 'n' Screamer, we fight like cats and dogs…"

"Don't call me that!"

"Like what?"

"Like… like Autobots and Decepticons. TC was the one who balanced us. That's who you are, Nova. You're just like TC. A peacemaker."

_You're just like TC._

It was the best thing he could have said. I couldn't hope to replace Thundercracker, but I could at least do my best to fill the void he had left behind.

"I accept," I said finally. Both faces brightened.

Wingmates. A trine of my own at last… or almost my own.

Without warning, Starscream struck me, sending me to the floor.

"I am your trineleader and while we fly together you will follow me, is that clear?"

I leapt to my pedes. "You are _my_ Air Commander. I am the leader of the Decepticons. I choose to fly at your side, I choose to obey because I know of your experience, but I am your commander and I will not allow you to undermine me. I am your _wingmate_ , not your subordinate. I will follow your lead when it suits me, and only then. Is _that_ clear?"

Starscream stared, optics flared in shock. Finally his expression changed to his usual smirk.

"Such a backstrut," he observed slyly. "For all that you go on about not being like Megatron, you have a habit of acting like him."

I flinched, stung, but Starscream hadn't meant it maliciously. He shrugged off my rebuke in his usual fashion. "Now get off your pedestal and go refuel. You look awful."

The three of us left the Tower and headed for our quarters. Skywarp was diverted by Frenzy and Rumble partway there; I hoped that their latest prank wouldn't be against me. Now that Starscream and I were alone, I carefully voiced a thought that had been troubling me.

"When your bondmate… is terminated… does it hurt?"

"You were there," Starscream answered softly. "You saw what happened to Skywarp. It's painful… immensely. When two Sparks bond, they become part of each other. When your bondmate dies you are losing a part of your own Spark."

I remembered feeling that pain once before, though it had not been my own. Axis. When Starscream had shown me his memories…

"You felt that at Axis."

Starscream's wings hiked defensively and he walked faster. I kept up.

"Didn't you? When Megatron—"

" _Nova_."

"You were bonded."

Starscream stopped, clenching his fists.

"I hated Megatron," he hissed. "I _hated_ him. When we—when he—created you, it was… We never meant to bond." He glowered at some imagined Megatron in the air before him. "I'm glad he's been terminated and I don't have to endure it any more."

The intensity of his hatred startled me. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if there hadn't been a hint of regret or even bitter sorrow in Starscream's voice.


	22. Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Commander, not all is what it seems. Remember that."

The Autobots seemed content to lick their wounds, so we fortified our borders and focused on reconstruction. I drew on the logistical expertise of Shockwave, who knew well how to manage Kaon and the surrounding Decepticon states during wartime.

The Constructicons proved their worth repairing our soldiers and rebuilding our city. I finally relaxed, now that one attack by the Autobots wouldn't wipe us out. While I wasn't overseeing construction, I learned battleground strategy from Trannis. We spent orbits battling with holographic armies, Trannis constantly changing variables such as terrain and number of combatants, leading me to realize just how much I had yet to learn.

I spent orns in the Archives, immersed in the memory of some battle or another, seeing how Megatron had moved his troops, how Optimus had responded, how it had ended. I tried putting this to practical use in my sessions with Trannis, finding out what worked and what didn't. The Archivist directed me to whatever I was looking for with ease. I asked around about him, but most of those I asked just shrugged.

"He was here before me," Trannis answered. "Ask someone who was here at the beginning. Starscream or Soundwave might know."

But when I asked Starscream, he directed me to Soundwave, and when I asked Soundwave, he was silent for a time.

"Origin: unknown. Archives: predate War."

Soundwave continued his search for the Autobot spy, moving to the officers just below the High Command—a rank which included Skywarp (technically Starscream's lieutenant) and Ramrod (Trannis's lieutenant following the disaster at Praxus)—and declaring them loyal as well.

I continued my training with Ramrod, still losing much of the time. It was frustrating to be defeated again and again, though once as I lay dented and panting on the floor, he commented, "You're definitely improving."

"It feels like my dents are getting deeper."

"That's because I have to hit you harder now."

"Slagger!"

"I'm serious. You're getting better, really." He reached down to help me up. I took his wrist and tugged hard, kicking his ankles from under him at the same time. He toppled with a yelp, landing next to me. "You brat! What was that for?"

"Payback."

He laughed. "I deserved that."

"If I'm getting better, why can't I win?"

"I know your moves. Trust me, if I were anyone else, you'd have me every time."

I left Ramrod to go see Soundwave about his progress, but he hadn't made much. We knew it was a groundling, but there were no leads.

"Is there any way to narrow the search pattern?" I asked him. "The longer this takes, the more dangerous it gets. This spy can get information to the Autobots. He can do anything as long as he remains undetected."

"Understood. Effort: maximum."

I returned to my quarters to find a fresh supply of energon. I took one of the new cubes and retreated to my berth, fetching a report from Hook and reading through it as I refueled. It had been a long orn, full of logistics and dents, and this report wasn't hugely important, and I felt the barest beginnings of an ache in my processor…

* * *

I onlined sluggishly, systems booting up one by one. Alerts blinked from most of my processes. My chronometer read several megacycles later than it should have. My core temperature was unusually high, my plating felt raw and hypersensitive, and my fuel tank was churning. I felt an urgent need to purge my tank, but when I tried to roll over, I discovered that I had been restrained.

I onlined my optics, activating my sensory net. A visored face swam into my grainy visual feed.

"You've finally come out of it." Hook's voice. "Not that I was worried. I can cure anything."

"What happened?" I rasped, vocalizer grating painfully. My fuel intake burned as though I'd swallowed acid.

Starscream, too, appeared above me. "You drank something that disagreed with you. Someone contaminated your energon."

Hook set about releasing the restraints. "You were thrashing enough to hurt yourself," he explained, "so I had no choice but to strap you down. You're recovering, but be careful."

"You were lucky," Starscream said. "I tested that energon and it would have terminated an Omega Sentinel. But it seems that you, like a certain previous leader, have exceptional resistance to contamination."

"You'd know a lot about that," Hook snorted.

"As I was _saying_ , whoever mixed that knew exactly what he was doing. Lucky that your loverboy found you when he did." I looked around, but Ramrod wasn't present. "That cube and four others were poisoned, but the rest of the stock is clean."

"Who could have done this?" I had to stop and clear out my intakes. "There aren't many mechs with access to my quarters. You, Skywarp…"

"Your friend Ramrod."

I had to leap to his defense. "Soundwave scanned him already. He's no Autobot."

"I'll speak to Soundwave. Hook, can he be moved?"

"I'd prefer to keep my optics on him, but if you must."

"I need to get to the Archives," I said. A sudden idea had come to me.

Hook started to disconnect me from the various machines as Starscream went to the door and opened it.

"You can stop fretting. He's awake."

Ramrod appeared beside me, helping me sit up. _/How are you feeling?/_

_/All right, I think./_

"It's possible the would-be assassin will come back to finish the job," Starscream said. "You will escort Nova to the Archives. The Archivist can watch over him there."

Ramrod threw a quick salute. "Yes, sir."

Starscream left for the Command Center. Hook gave us a final admonition before he would allow us to leave.

"Don't strain yourself. My tune-up will help, but no flying and no fighting, except in an emergency, does that register?"

Ramrod supported me as I tested the strength of my legs. The hallways swayed around me until Ramrod was the only solid thing left in the world.

"How do you _really_ feel?" he asked as soon as we were out of the door.

"Like slag. My systems are shot. How did you find me? I thought you were going to recharge."

"I was going to. But I just had this feeling that I should go and check on you." I glanced up to see him frowning. Then he grinned at me. "I'm your knight in shining armor, remember? I went in there and you were offline, your core temperature way up. That cube was sitting next to you, so I put two and two together."

I was silent. He hesitantly began again. "For a few cycles I thought you would…" Air hissed from his vents. "Primus. I thought you were dead for sure."

"Well, then, it's a good thing you were around, isn't it?"

His arm tightened around my waist. "I'll always be around when you need me, Nova."

We arrived at the Archives without incident.

"Safest place in Kaon," Ramrod said, helping me inside.

"Thank you."

"Here's my tracking signal. Find me if you want. I'll see you later, all right?"

"All right."

After watching him leave, I turned to find the Archivist behind me.

"Are you recovering?" he asked in his soft voice.

_How on Cybertron did he know?_ I wondered, but instead I said, "Yes, thank you."

"Is there something I can help you find?" he asked, though his steps were already leading me towards the Hall of Memory.

"You are aware that Soundwave is looking through each mech's processor to find the Autobot spy?"

"I am." He huffed out a half-amused, half-disgusted puff of air. "Soundwave is an amateur. A talented one, true, but his methods are sloppy."

"I was wondering—"

"I thought you would come to me sooner," he said as we entered the Hall of Memory. "When each mech uploads a memory to the Archives, the equipment notes and records any unusual errors or glitches. I can provide you with a list of suspects and save you the trouble of looking through every processor in the army."

"What kinds of errors and glitches?"

"A spy will not load incriminating memories into the Archives. They will be missing, altered, or corrupted. The Archives take note of these errors, or, in fact, any other processor malfunctions." He gave me a stern look. "You ought to recommend that Hook collect a list from me."

He sat me down before a console and linked to it himself. "Those suffering an excessive amount of errors are listed in red. These mechs you must investigate at once, before your life is threatened again."

Designations filled the screen, the list growing at first, then shrinking as the Archivist narrowed the criteria. One, glowing softly red, caught my attention. As though he had read my mind, the Archivist rested a hand on my shoulder.

"There are many explanations," he said softly. "It may not be as it seems. I would also like to examine this further, if only to satisfy ourselves that we have not been deceived."

He brought up further information beneath the burning symbols. "Most unusual. His memory suffers from gaps. I must admit to my suspicions."

"There must be another explanation."

"One can only hope." He leaned nearer to the screen; the blue glow and the red light of our optics battled before us. "Confront him. Find peace of mind, or find a spy. Answer these questions."

"I can't." Numb shock had frozen my Spark. "He is loyal. I know it."

"If you were truly sure, you would not hesitate. Go. Put your doubts to rest."

I stood, shoving back the lingering weakness. "I will."

He stopped me before I reached the door. "Commander, not all is what it seems. Remember that."

* * *

Despite my wobbly limbs, I could walk on my own. I hid all signs of my illness, nodding to those who greeted me, passing by wordlessly on my way to the surface. I held my unease close to my Spark. It all made sense, but it could not be. It had to be a mistake.

I followed the signal out of the base and through the city, tracking him to the outskirts. I ought to have brought backup, but I still could not believe what the evidence had shown.

Zeroing in on the signal, I rounded a corner and squeezed through a broken door half-blocked by rubble. Grey light filtered in through shattered windowpanes, lighting an abandoned room scattered with rusty scraps. My optics fell not on the scraps and windows but on the two mechs just across the room and the blaster aimed straight at me. The first was a green-and-tan groundling with a glowering Autobot sigil on his chest, the one who had the blaster aimed at me. I recognized him from our intelligence network: Highbrow, head of Autobot intel, subordinate to the Senate.

The other mech, kneeling submissively beside the Autobot, head bowed as though to hide himself, was Ramrod.


End file.
